


The Island

by marsbert



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, famous author, long holiday, secluded island, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 105,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsbert/pseuds/marsbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Slight AU where Tom has three months off between filming Crimson Peak and High Rise) Tom decides to take a long holiday to unwind and refresh, and he goes to the remote Scottish Isles, specifically the small island of Burray, to do so. He enjoys the community, the quiet life, and the scenery, and is introduced to an inhabitant of the island he actually has heard of, a former famous author, Shiloh Winters, who removed herself from public life after a violent attack years ago. Over time, the two become friends and connect over similar views and experiences, and other things they have in common, and eventually, they fall in love. Will Tom and Shiloh be able to make their relationship work? Will Shiloh be able to deal with being thrust back into the public eye? What dangers from her dramatic past might be waiting for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Island

**Author's Note:**

> The early chapters are mostly for set-up of the island, the surroundings and the community, with some description of a few original "background" characters.

Tom stepped off the ferry and onto the stillness of dry land. He looked up at the overcast sky with a slight groan and then glanced back at the boat behind him. The ferry itself had only a handful of cars, and just half a dozen other people had boarded along with him at the main land. He flexed his grip on his trolley suitcase and repositioned his overnight bag on his shoulder, feeling rather silly standing there near the edge of the ocean with his miniscule bits of personal belongings crammed into his luggage. For the last year it felt like he’d been doing nothing but living out of his suitcases, and the idea of unpacking for a few months felt both daunting and relaxing at the same time.

“Mr. Hiddleston?” a rough, graveled voice traveled across the small crowd. Tom turned away from the clouds and waves, as hypnotizing as they were, and met the smiling, grizzled face of who he could only assume was the man he’d spoken to on the phone.

“Richard?” he asked, and the man nodded and let out a hearty laugh. He was older, his hair white and thin, blowing easily in the warm breeze. He clapped Tom on the shoulder when he neared, then took his suitcases from his hand and led him up towards the car park.

“How was your trip?” Richard asked once they’d climbed into his small jeep and he had started to steer them up the road. Tom watched in a haze as the small cobbled streets flew by as the jeep gained speed.

He smiled, his face was beginning to feel numb from the amount of smiling he’d been doing lately, “the flight was fine, ferry ride was a little rough, though,” he tried to chuckle.

Richard must have heard the exhaustion seeping through his voice, he glanced over at Tom and smirked, then back at the road as they climbed a sturdy hill, “you’ll be able to relax soon enough, son, the cottage is right at the top of the mountain, we’ll get you settled in and then you won’t have a care in the world.”

Tom smirked, “is it that obvious?”

“That you’re knackered?”  
He laughed and nodded, Richard looked at him and laughed, “my daughter tells me you’ve been very busy lately.”

They rounded a bend and the view of the ocean filled the entire windshield, Tom quickly forgot what they had been talking about. Richard smiled at him out of the corner of his eye, “that’s the view you’ll be waking up to for the next three months, laddie.”

~*~

Tom was woken with a start when Richard took the final turn a little too sharp. Tom had put his elbow on the door of the passenger side of the jeep and had leaned his face into his hand, meaning only to rub the fatigue from his brow. Now, sitting straight in his seat and trying to get an idea of where they were, he realized he had fallen asleep for a few minutes. Richard had smirked at him, turned the jeep off, and was now walking around the front of the car towards the small cottage they were parked in front of. Tom leaned forward in his seat to look at the cottage through the windshield, but decided that getting out would be a better idea. He followed Richard, his long legs allowing him to catch up to the older man quickly, and Richard finished unlocking the front door, then turned and handed the keys to Tom.

“These are yours, for the next few months,” he smiled. Tom slipped the ring of keys into his pocket, and followed the old man into the small house. The front door opened into a small living room; a fluffy, worn out couch sat beneath a bay window that faced out towards the sea, and a small, ancient television was stuffed into the corner on the opposite side of the room. Tom wanted to take a better look around, but Richard seemed keen on giving a succinct tour, and then letting him rest.

“This is the living room, kitchen is through here,” the old man said as he thumped through a doorway to their left, Tom followed, taking in the quaint style of the rustic old kitchen, then following Richard through another door. “Down here,” the man said with a grunt, “there’s the loo, bedroom, washing, storage,” he pointed at the doors along the hallway as he spoke, pointing each one out to Tom, who barely had time to glance at them before Richard turned and started to make his way back towards the front door.

“I’ll be back in the morning with your car,” the old man said as he pulled Tom’s suitcases out of the back of the jeep and handed them to him, “sorry to rush you, but there’s a birth happening at the farm that I need to get back to.”

“Congrats,” Tom said quickly, a wide smile emerging across his lips, and Richard just grinned.

“Ol’ Bertha’s having a foal,” he said proudly, and Tom’s smile faltered briefly. The two men walked back into the cottage with Tom’s luggage, and Richard took a deep breath, mentally making sure he’d gone over everything.

“Right,” he said with a toothy grin, “like I said, me and m’boy Billy will bring you your car in the morning, Molly’s stocked your fridge and cupboards….I can give you the grand tour a’ the island tomorrow if you’d like?”

“That would be wonderful,” Tom smiled graciously.

Richard nodded, “well then, the generator’s all hooked up, you’re full a’ juice, Billy hooked the internet up a few days ago… there is some cell signal up here on the hill, but when the weather gets bad, the bars get fussy,” he chuckled, Tom smiled, “am I forgetting anything?” he asked him.

Tom thought for a moment, he couldn’t really think of any unanswered questions, “I don’t think so.”

“Right,” Richard smiled, “if you need anything, my number is on the fridge, I’m just a few miles away.”

He turned to leave, Tom followed him, they stepped out onto the gravel driveway. Richard climbed into his jeep, and Tom stepped up to his door as he closed it, “do I have any neighbors?” he asked the old man, as Richard turned the jeep back on.

Richard glanced at him, then thought for a moment, looking off into the distance, “only one,” he smiled, “she’s up a ways,” he pointed off in the distance, towards another hillside, and Tom could only just make out the small shape of a house cutting into the mountainside, “she likes to be alone, that one, nice woman, but she keeps to herself. You’re pretty much alone up here, like you said you wanted.”

Tom smiled and looked back at the man, nodding, “thank you, again, Richard.”

Richard nodded, “get some rest, sonny, I’ll see you in the morning.”

~*~

The sun began to set behind the ocean view, as Tom finished unpacking. He filled the small closet in the bedroom with his shirts, put his pants and underwear away into the dresser drawers, unpacked his toiletries in the bathroom, and got his laptop set up on the coffee table in front of the couch. He flipped through the few channels on the television, peered into the fridge to see what Richard’s wife had bought for him, then he inspected the washing, then the storage cupboard, before returning back to the couch to relax.

He opened his laptop and found a few emails from friends, he replied to Ben’s email first, defending his decision to take some time off and get away from the spotlight, he knew Ben was just joking with him, but he still replied in defense of the decision. The island of Burray had been suggested to him by a friend of his father’s, knowing the Scottish isles better than anyone else Tom knew. The thought of a few months alone, or at least in a more remote area, had been abundantly appealing to him at the time, and now, he understood why. Back home in London, when he was home, he was answering phone calls all day, replying to emails, going to meetings, and that was when he wasn’t working. Even so, he hadn’t been back home for more than a week at a time in almost an entire year, and all the travelling to different filming locations and premieres had started tiring him out.

He sat on the old creaky couch, the television silent and his laptop just staring back at him quietly, and he finally felt like he could take a deep breath. He turned to look behind him, out the window at the sun, as it poured in and began to shine across the room. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore started to lull him into a calm and steady rhythmic breathing, and soon he was spread across the couch, fast asleep.

He woke suddenly; the room was dark, the moon shining brightly from the midnight sky outside. His feet were hanging off the end of the couch, his shoes on the floor where he had kicked them in the middle of his lengthy nap. He sat up, stretched, and glanced at the time on his phone. It was almost two in the morning, he had missed a call from his mother, but knew she’d long since gone to bed by now. He grabbed his phone, shut his laptop, and shuffled sleepily down the hallway towards the bedroom.

The sheets on the bed smelled of detergent and were crisp to the touch; he peeled his cardigan off and unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants to the floor in a weary heap. He crawled under the fluffy down blanket and buried his face in the soft pillows. He laid his phone on the mattress next to him and slid his finger across the screen to set his alarm, then turned onto his side and drifted back to sleep.

~*~

When his alarm sounded a few hours later, Tom opened his eyes to the calming sound of the sea. He sat up, for a split second forgetting where he was, but as he looked out the bedroom window, out to the blue stillness of the water, he couldn’t help but smirk. Where had he found himself? Was this some un-discovered paradise?

He climbed out of bed, crawled into a pair of sweat pants from the drawer, threw on a thin t-shirt, and padded out into the rest of the house. Forgetting about his phone and laptop, his wireless connections to the world he had temporarily abandoned, he walked straight through the living room and out to the front lawn of the cottage. He lumbered lazily across the vivid grass, the smell of the salty sea filling his senses; he took a deep breath and almost cried at the splendor of it all. He scanned the landscape for anything even remotely similar to what he’d been living with for so long; there was nothing, no skyscrapers, no busy streets full of honking, angry traffic, no planes flying above, or cellular towers nearby. There was the sound of the waves, the random calls of birds as they flew by, and the rushing sound of the wind.

It was breathtaking.

Standing there, breathing in and trying to memorize every last detail of the sights and sounds around him, it wasn’t until a few moments had passed by, that Tom finally recognized a familiar sound. From across the way, so far away that he could barely see them, he could make out the tiny figures of someone running in a field, a large brown dog running with them, barking. It was the barking that suddenly reminded him of his home growing up, and he once again couldn’t hold back a wide grin, watching the pair as they traipsed through the grass. If he had known how to get over there, he would have started walking, but as he turned back towards the house, Richard’s jeep pulled into the driveway again, this time followed by another vehicle, presumably driven by his son Billy.

Tom walked towards them as they both got out of the vehicles, and Richard waved. He replied with a wave back, and once he was close enough, he clasped Richard’s callused hand in his own and gave him a wide smile, “morning!” he said happily.

Richard smirked, “morning, m’boy, how was your first night?”

“Wonderful,” Tom beamed, then he turned to the young man standing beside Richard, “you must be Billy?”

Billy nodded, and shook Tom’s hand, but he remained silent. He handed his father the keys from the old car he had been driving, and Richard then handed those keys to Tom, “I’m sure it’s nothing like what you drive, back home,” he said, and Tom waved him off.

“It’s perfect,” he said gratefully, taking the keys.

“Care for that tour a’ the island I offered?” Richard asked.

Tom gazed back at the sun rising over the ocean, then down at his sweat pants and t-shirt, “I think I’m going to stay here for a little while longer and just relax, it felt so good to sleep last night.”

Richard smirked, “I hear ya, just give me a ring if you need anything, town is 10 miles down the main road, it’s pretty straight forward. Even if ya’ got lost, there’s not far to go on this little spit o’ land, we’ll find you pretty quick,” the old man said with a chuckle.

Tom smiled and waved as Richard and Billy climbed into the jeep. Remembering something suddenly, he jogged over to the driver’s side door and Richard rolled the window down.

“Richard, one thing,” Tom said breathlessly.

“What is it m’boy?”

Tom looked over across the hills to where he had been watching the tiny figure playing with the barking dog, he pointed in that direction, “my neighbor, you said, who likes to be alone, is that her?”

Richard’s eyes followed to where Tom was pointing, then nodded, “Aye, Miss Winters.”

“Does she have a dog?”

Richard nodded again, “Barley, great big German Sheppard, why’da ask?”

Tom shook his head, “I was just curious, saw them a moment ago.”

Richard smiled, “Shiloh is a nice girl, but like I told ya’, she likes to keep to herself, you’re basically alone up here, all the peace and quiet you wanted,” he smirked.

Tom nodded and smiled, “Thanks again, Richard.”

Richard nodded and Tom backed away as he began to reverse the jeep out of the driveway. Tom held up a hand in a wave as Richard and Billy drove off, and then turned back towards the faraway hillside. The miniscule figure of his far-off neighbor and her dog were gone now, presumably back inside their cozy home.

He walked back inside his cottage and shut the front door behind him, the sound of the crashing waves seemed to hum through the stone walls, but it was the kind of silence he could quickly get used to. That rhythmic, pulsing hum of the sea and the light breeze was intoxicating. He went into the kitchen and cranked open the window to let the sea air permeate into the house.

He took a deep breath and smelled the salt on the rocks below, and felt the breeze wafting through his hair. He glanced around the kitchen and back into the living room for a moment, before searching the nearest cupboards for the kettle.

While his water began to heat up, he rummaged through the cupboards and found an assortment of teas, all different flavors, and he made a mental note to call upon Richard’s wife, Molly, and thank her for the meticulous reserve of supplies. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of him, and began to think to himself, Shiloh Winters, why does that name sound familiar?

Glancing back at the kettle, he knew he had a few minutes, so he walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch in front of his laptop. He couldn’t quite think of where he had heard that name before, but he found it odd that on such a remote and secluded place such as this tiny island, that he would hear a name he recognized?

He quickly brought up his search engine and typed the woman’s name into the query box. When he hit ‘enter,’ the tea kettle began to call him, and he left the laptop to return to the kitchen and prepare himself a cup. Upon returning to the couch with his tea and a biscuit from the pantry, he sat down in front of the computer and began to scroll through the search results.

Shiloh Winters, American author best known for her Science-Fiction Horror series “The Darkness Within.” Tom read, suddenly he remembered where he had heard the name before. He had still been at Uni, at least ten years ago, when he had stumbled upon the first book in that series and read it on a train ride to Paris to visit his girlfriend. He didn’t remember much about the book itself, or the plot, but he did remember it had frightened him, reading it late at night on a dark and almost empty train. He had even had trouble sleeping later that evening after his girl and he had made love.

He smirked to himself, what a small world, he thought.

He had been about to close the laptop, when the headline of the second search result on the list caught his eye. Crazed Horror Fan Attacks Popular Science-Fiction Author. Surprised in mid-sip of his tea, the hot liquid momentarily burned his lips. He put the cup down on the table next to the computer, and clicked the link to the full article, leaning in closer to read.

June, 2001, San Diego, California. Popular Science-Fiction author Shiloh Winters was attacked yesterday evening by a rabid fan after an early book-signing for the most recent sequel to her award winning ‘Darkness Within’ series. The author, who received high praise from critics and fans for successfully combining the elements of suspenseful horror and realistic science-fiction when she debuted her the series three years ago, was signing copies of the newest addition to the series, ‘Shadows Underneath,’ and answering questions from fans in attendance. One fan, whose name has not been released to the press as of this time, was eager to have his ranting questions answered by the young writer, and wouldn't take ‘no,’ for an answer. The man became agitated when Miss Winters tried to answer other people’s questions, and he was promptly escorted from the premises. One witness was quoted in saying that “the man began to scream something, as he was being removed by security, about the demons being after Shiloh, like he thought they were real or something.” Later that evening, when being escorted to her car after a publicity event, Miss Winters’ crazed fan was able to get past her security team and proceeded to attack the writer with a knife. The man was apprehended and taken into custody, while Miss Winters was taken to the local hospital.

Tom sat back on the couch, not wanting to read anymore. His stomach churned at the thought, his own encounters with over-excited fans flashing through his mind quickly. The tea no longer seemed appetizing to him, and he took the cup back into the kitchen and was grateful for the cooling breeze when he neared the window.

From outside, he could hear the dog barking again. He couldn’t see the tiny house from the kitchen window, but the sound of the dog barking seemed to ring through his brain, echoing. He shook the fuzz out of his mind, then returned to the couch and grabbed the television remote.


	2. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Slight AU where Tom has three months off between filming Crimson Peak and High Rise) Tom decides to take a long holiday to unwind and refresh, and he goes to the remote Scottish Isles, specifically the small island of Burray, to do so. He enjoys the community, the quiet life, and the scenery, and is introduced to an inhabitant of the island he actually has heard of, a former famous author, Shiloh Winters, who removed herself from public life after a violent attack years ago. Over time, the two become friends and connect over similar views and experiences, and other things they have in common, and eventually, they fall in love. Will Tom and Shiloh be able to make their relationship work? Will Shiloh be able to deal with being thrust back into the public eye? What dangers from her dramatic past might be waiting for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More setup of the overall story, Tom meets some more locals and begins to familiarize himself with the island.

Later that afternoon, after Tom had fallen asleep in front of the television and woken a few hours later from the grumble of his empty stomach, he decided it was time to take a drive down to the town, and take a look around. For a moment he thought of getting his shorts on and trying for a run along the beach, but he felt like exploring the town first. The beach was down there, within walking distance from his front door, and it would still be there when he got back.

Stepping into the small shower, Tom adjusted the stream of water as much as he could to accommodate his height. He toweled off, got dressed, and checked his phone.

He adjusted the seat in the car Richard had brought him, once he had shifted it and made room for himself, it was a nice ride, easy to handle, and the roads on the island were not as worn and pockmarked as those in the rest of Europe, or the States.

He followed the main road, as Richard had said, and eventually arrived at what appeared to be this little village’s commerce district. The short street was crammed full of tiny shops, bakeries and bistros. Tom parked and began to walk along the cobbled sidewalks; looking in the windows of the shops as he passed by.

He stopped outside of a delicious-smelling bakery, caught off guard by the sight of wonderfully baked cookies and breads on display in the front window. Without thinking, he opened the door and went inside. He was greeted by a small, happy woman; she had to be at least Richard’s age, with her greying hair and numerous laugh lines. She took one look at Tom and her smile fell from her face, then she caught herself, clasped a hand to her bosom and laughed.

“My dear, you scared me! Thought the angels had come to take me to heaven!” she laughed.

Tom beamed, he felt his face flush, “afternoon,” he said cheerily, “what’s the most delicious, fattening, unhealthy thing you’ve got?”

The old woman let out another hearty laugh and Tom couldn’t help but join in. She leaned into one of the display cases and pulled out a scrumptious looking tart, slathered in what looked like chocolate and caramel.

“This is something you’ll only ever find in Orkney,” she said with a hush. Tom smiled at her, and took a seat at the bar, where he noticed a young boy was having an ice cream sundae.

One look at the lad’s sundae, and Tom’s mouth began to water, he beamed at the woman behind the counter, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, love?”

The woman’s cheeks flushed and her smile widened, “my dear boy, if you start calling me ‘love,’ then we’re  _really_  in trouble!” They both laughed, and when she’d caught her breath, she cleared her throat, “I’m Phyllis, darling, and you?”

“Tom.”

“Well it’s lovely to meet you, Tom, are you visiting the island?”

He nodded, “I’m staying in the cottage, up on the hill, for a few months.”

“Richard’s cottage?”

“You know Richard?”

She laughed, “sweetheart, there are less than 400 people on this island, everybody knows  _everybody_!”

Tom chuckled, forgetting how small the island was, then glanced back at the boys ice cream, “my darling Phyllis, do you think I could get this,” he motioned to the dreamy tart she had handed him, “to go, and have what he’s having, here at the bar?”

With a bright cheery giggle, Phyllis nodded and began about putting together another sundae behind the counter. Before long, she had slid the tall concoction in front of Tom, and he licked his lips as he looked at it.

“Better eat it before it melts, lovely,” she smiled.

Tom obliged, digging his spoon into the whipped cream and chocolate she had drizzled on top. After the first few mouthfuls, once he had taken in the amazing taste and texture, and could clear his mouth before speaking, he again addressed the cheery woman, “today’s my first  _full_  day here, and I wanted to do some exploring, but I’ve gotten a rather late start.”

She leaned on her elbows in front of him and he took another spoonful as she smiled at him, “well you’ve come to the right place, my dear Tom, I can tell you anything you want to know about the island, its history, the people who discovered it, the wars it has survived, and the best places to visit, before you leave.”

He smirked, his mouth full of ice cream. He took a moment to swallow, then covered his mouth out of courtesy as he spoke, “where can I get some groceries?” he felt silly asking, but he didn’t want to bother Richard just yet.

Phyllis laughed, “oh my boy, the market is right down the road! When you’re done with your sundae, all you have to do is head a bit further down, the way you were already going,” she pointed towards the street he had come in from, “make one left, and the market is right there, you can’t miss it!”

Tom ate his ice cream slowly, enjoying Phyllis’ bubbly personality and infectious laugh, as she went off about the history of the islands, the part they played in both the World Wars, and how Burray was clearly the best of all the Orkney Islands. When he had finished his chilly dessert, she packaged up the tart for him and he promised to come back in the next few days for another sundae. Joking that she would put some meat on him before he left the island, he smiled his way out of her intoxicating bakery and started down the street towards the market.

Half an hour later, after perusing the aisles in the market, inspecting fruits, investigating the baked goods, he came out to find the sun clouded over and it looking like it was about to rain. Debating on whether to wait in the market for the clouds to pass or try and hurry back to his car before he got soaked, Tom was suddenly distracted when he saw a slender young woman, half hidden under a huge hood, emerging from a car that had just parked near the entrance to the market. Sitting in the backseat of her car, with the back windows rolled half way down so he could stick his head out to watch her go, was a great big German Sheppard, his tongue lolling lazily from his mouth as he panted happily.

Tom’s eyes followed the woman as she disappeared inside the market, but, not wanting to invade anyone’s privacy, or come off as some sort of creepy stalker, he decided it was best not to introduce himself to his neighbor at this time. Glancing up at the clouds again, he chose to make a dash for it, walking quickly past the car with the dog in it, and trying to hurry back to his own vehicle before the storm started.

He arrived back at the cottage, thankfully dry even though the rain was starting to dribble slowly as he unlocked the front door and brought in his groceries. He started putting the food away in the kitchen and sauntered around the small house, putting things where he thought they would be most accessible. He hooked the computer power cord into the outlet behind the couch, he set his iPhone on the table next to the bed and plugged it in since the battery was low. He lumbered back to the storage closet at the end of the hallway, seeming to remember seeing an old stereo in there the evening before. He laughed to himself when he pulled the dusty thing out from behind the miscellaneous blankets, cleaning supplies, and other odd items in the closet.  _This thing has to be as old as I am_ , he chuckled to himself. He dusted the radio off, brought it out into the kitchen, and switched it on.

The stations he could receive were full of static, and he didn’t understand any of them at first, but he kept fiddling with the dials until finally it sounded like he had caught hold of an ‘oldies’ station, playing tunes from the 60’s and 70’s. He turned the volume up, and set about the kitchen to make himself an early dinner.

**~*~**

Sitting on the couch, his legs up on the coffee table next to his closed laptop, Tom wolfed down his plate of pasta as he stared blankly at the television, not really paying attention to what was on the screen. He found himself bobbing his head as he chewed, one of the old 60’s tunes he had heard on the radio while cooking was now stuck in his head, but he didn’t mind, he was in such a good mood it seemed like nothing could bring him down.

He took another forkful of pasta and looked at his phone, which he had laid next to him on the couch before sitting down, now that it had finished charging, and remembered he should have called his mother back hours ago. Feeling guilty, he finished his pasta quickly, then checked the time, and dialed his mother.

“I’m having a wonderful time,” he told her a few minutes later, after she had scolded him for not getting a hold of her sooner. He apologized profusely, then she had proceeded to ask about the island, the weather, what the people were like, if he had everything he needed, and was he really going to stay there for a whole three months? He had finally gotten a few words in, telling her that he was finally able to take a breath and relax, and that with the superb peace and quiet here on the island, he might even try his hand at writing, like he had been wanting to. She had exclaimed at that, noting that his sister was the writer in the family, and that he was the thespian, but he knew she was just teasing him. He told her he loved her, promised to call a few days later, and said good night, before hanging up.

Glancing out the bay window in the living room, the storm was steadily growing darker and heavier as the sun began to set behind the clouds. Not quite the same gorgeous sunset he had seen the day before, but even with the sea beginning to churn from the blustery weather outside, the sight of the island from where he sat atop it, was still gorgeous.

A distant sound caught his ears as he leaned over the back of the couch, watching the clouds rolling in front of the departing sun, and he realized it was a dog barking. The barks steadily began to grow louder, and Tom started to look around, through the window, to see if he could spot the animal. Suddenly a great brown blur whizzed past his window, bounding through the tall grass of the field next to his cottage.

Tom got up and quickly threw on his coat, then flung himself out the front door. He went after the dog, which was leaping around, barking at everything, or nothing, Tom wasn’t sure. Perhaps the storm had upset the dog, and now, panicked, it was lost?

He neared the animal carefully, finally getting close enough to recognize it as the same dog he had seen in the woman’s car outside the market. He whistled softly at the furry beast, which then came running towards him. For a moment, Tom worried maybe the animal might be vicious to anyone who wasn’t his master, but when it came jumping up to Tom and threw its muddy front paws up on Tom’s chest, he realized that that wasn’t the case.

The dog happily licked at Tom’s cheek as he ruffled its damp fur, the rain was still only drizzling, but the wind was beginning to pick up quickly, and thunder was crashing in the distance.

“Where’d you come from, buddy?” he asked the dog, knowing there’d be no reply.

From around the bend that led further up the hill, past the cottage, an alarmed voice traveled across the wind, “Barley!” a woman called. Tom reached down and tugged on the dog’s collar, as it continued to try and hug Tom with its paws, and saw one big golden tag with the name BARLEY imprinted on it. He took the collar in his hand, gently pushed the dog’s paws off of his chest, and started to walk the heavy animal towards the corner of his cottage.

The two of them met half way, almost crashing into each other. She, with her heavy coat on and the hood pulled up, practically covering her entire face, ready for the impending rain. He, with his puffy jacket that offered warmth but no real protection from wild winds or rain, holding a wild-looking Barley between them.

“Is this guy yours?” Tom smiled against the rising wind as he held onto the dog’s collar.

The woman glanced at Tom, but then quickly bent down and attached the leash she was carrying to Barley’s collar, making sure not to come in contact with Tom’s hand. Once the dog was secured on its line, she stood back, holding the hood of her rain slicker onto her head as the wind tried to blow it away. She looked at Tom, who tried to smile despite the growling wind, but instead of smiling back at him or introducing herself, she muttered a quick and curt “thanks,” then turned on her heel and pulled Barley back along with her.

**~*~**

“I don’t mean to be a gossip, Phyllis,” Tom started as he sat at the bakery counter, picking at a piece of cheese cake the cheery woman had placed in front of him. It had been two days since the storm when he had found Barley running around his yard, and his cloistered neighbor had come to retrieve him, and in those two days Tom had done a little more exploring of the island, visiting the tourist sites that both Richard and Phyllis had suggested to him. He had also started to go for runs, when the weather allowed, along the beach that was down the hill from his cottage. He had come to enjoy the company of the older woman and her cheery way of talking, and she also offered more interesting conversation than the brief, and often-preoccupied Richard, “but, can I ask you something?”

Phyllis looked intrigued, but contained herself, “of course darling, and I would never consider a fine gentleman like you to be anything even remotely  _gossipy_ ,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Tom smiled, he was used to women fawning over him, but had never truly become adjusted to it, although Phyllis’ gentle teasing and playful quips made her seem more maternal to him, like a energetic aunt who loved a good giggle, “do you…” he paused, considering the best way to phrase the question, “is there anything you could tell me, about my neighbor? Miss Winters?”

Phyllis’ bright smile wavered for a moment, she looked away from Tom’s questioning face and down at the plate she was drying, with a sigh. Nodding softly to herself, she looked back at Tom, “that poor thing,” was all she said. After a few moments of silence, in which she put back various sundae cups and plates that had been used by customers earlier in the day, she finally turned back to Tom, and lowered her voice, despite the two of them being the only people in the bakery at the moment, “she’s had a rough time, y’know.”

Tom nodded, looking down at his cheese cake, “I remember - I used to read her books.”

Phyllis smirked, “so you know she’s a writer?”

He smiled quickly, “I recognized her name when Richard mentioned her, days ago…I just…I can’t help but wonder,” now he felt himself lowering his own voice, though it was still only he and Phyllis in the shop, “how does one live alone like that and cut themselves off from everything?”

The old woman smiled, “well, she’s not completely cut off, dear, she does come down into town. She’s not a hermit; she even comes in here a few times a month. Doesn’t talk much, but she’s friendly enough to those of us she knows.”

“How long has she lived here?” he asked, realizing he was being the exact type of prying, gossipy neighbor that he had not wanted to become.

Phyllis thought for a moment, “almost fifteen years I think,” counting the years in her head, “she moved her soon after her accident.”

He nodded, “I read a bit about it, online,” he shuddered at the thought of what he had read, “horrible…dreadful act.”

Phyllis nodded, “she had a hard time staying in the states, where it happened, got a bit of that…oh what’s it called… PTSD? So she eventually moved here, wanted to get away from it all. Can’t say that I blame her.”

“No,” Tom agreed. He was quiet for another moment, ready to let the subject drop, when something else came to him, “I met her a few days ago… her dog had run into my yard, she came down to fetch him.”

Phyllis’ eyes brightened, “oh? Did you two get to talk?”

Tom smirked, “actually, no, she thanked me and took the dog, I barely had time to even look at her.”

Phyllis nodded, “has a bit of a phobia now, it’s hard for her to meet new people, or be in crowds. She really only comes down into town when she knows places will be mostly empty. Takes that dog of hers everywhere,” she put away another dish, then noticed the look on Tom’s face, and flashed him a reassuring grin, “she wasn’t being rude to you dear, she’s the sweetest thing in the world… but a lot of the locals, well, they tend to keep their distance from those who are just visiting… it’s an island thing, I think.”

Tom smiled, standing up and getting ready to pay for his slice of cheesecake he’d picked at while chatting. Phyllis took his money with a smile, and he turned to leave. Just before opening the door to step outside, the old woman called to him.

He turned, “yes?”

She chuckled, “tomorrow, there’s a small party on the beach, for Richard’s son Billy, he’s turning 18.”

He smiled, “that’s wonderful.”

She scoffed, grinning wide, “you should come!”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “was I invited?”

She chuckled, “ _I’m_  inviting you dear, Richard wouldn’t mind, he likes you. And Shiloh will hopefully be there, maybe I’ll be able to introduce the two of you,” she couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice.

“Well,” he pondered momentarily, but it wasn’t like he had any plans, he was in relax-mode on the island, and he was enjoying every minute of it, “as long as you don’t think Richard or Billy would mind?”

Phyllis reassured him, told him the time of the party, and shook a finger at him so he wouldn’t forget.


	3. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Slight AU where Tom has three months off between filming Crimson Peak and High Rise) Tom decides to take a long holiday to unwind and refresh, and he goes to the remote Scottish Isles, specifically the small island of Burray, to do so. He enjoys the community, the quiet life, and the scenery, and is introduced to an inhabitant of the island he actually has heard of, a former famous author, Shiloh Winters, who removed herself from public life after a violent attack years ago. Over time, the two become friends and connect over similar views and experiences, and other things they have in common, and eventually, they fall in love. Will Tom and Shiloh be able to make their relationship work? Will Shiloh be able to deal with being thrust back into the public eye? What dangers from her dramatic past might be waiting for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom finally gets to meet Shiloh, who he's heard so much about, at a small party he's been invited to, and the two have a friendly chat on the beach, despite her obvious issues with meeting new people.

It wasn’t so much a party, but more of a small get together of friends and family of Richard’s and Billy’s. When Tom arrived, even though he’d been well-received with a welcoming roar from everyone, even those he had not been introduced to yet, he still ended up feeling a little left out. Unattached, since he had only just met most of these people, he tried to put on a happy face, and joined in various conversations; some he could chime in on, when he knew the topic of discussion, others, he just remained silent and enjoyed a good story. In an oddly removed way, it felt eerily similar to some Hollywood parties he had attended through the recent years, mingling between the glitzy crowds, meeting famous faces but not knowing exactly what to talk about.

It was after almost half an hour that Phyllis wiggled her way over to Tom, took him by the arm, and directed his attention to a spot a short distance away, where he saw a big brown dog playing in the waves as they ebbed and flowed, and a woman sitting in the sand nearby.

“Why don’t I introduce you two?” Phyllis asked happily.

Tom looked down at Phyllis, smirking, “it looks like she wants to be alone.”

Phyllis shook her head, “nonsense, she needs a bit of company.”

He weighed his options mentally, then sighed, “maybe I’ll go introduce myself.”

Now the old woman beamed, as if her mission had been accomplished. Tom ran a hand through his hair, and Phyllis disappeared for a moment towards one of the tables that had been set up in the sand to hold snacks and drinks. When she returned to him, she was holding a bear in one hand, and a small glass of something orange, in the other.

“This is for you,” she handed him the beer, “and this is for Shiloh, it’s her favorite.”

Tom eyeballed the drink, “a mimosa?”

Phyllis nodded, gave him a tiny push, and Tom began to walk over to where Shiloh was sitting. Suddenly his head seemed to be whizzing full of thoughts; what to say, what not to say, how to introduce himself, all cramming inside his skull and making it hard to think clearly. He was quickly reminded of how much this woman’s writing had scared him when he was a teenager, and suddenly now he felt just as terrified. The fact that he was nervous to walk up to this woman, caught him off guard, he wasn’t sure why he felt so uneasy.

When he was a few feet from her, he cleared his throat uncertainly, and she looked up at him, surprised.

“Hi,” he fumbled, extending the fruity drink out towards her, “y-you look like you could use a drink,” he tried to smile but it felt blubbery, “and a little birdie told me that this was your favorite.”

The slightest of smiles lit across her face, but she only just looked at him. She seemed to be sizing him up. The German Sheppard was still frolicking through the water nearby, but after a moment, Shiloh reached out and took the glass from Tom’s extended hand, “does that little birdie have white hair and own the bakery?” she asked, taking a sip of the fruity drink.

Tom nodded, finding his words failing him. He stood there sheepishly, his beer un-touched in one hand, his other, now-empty hand quickly stuffed into his jacket pocket. She glanced back up at him, “want to sit down?”

Obligingly, Tom quickly found himself in the sand next to her, and he situated his knees so he could rest his arms on them, still holding his beer. He stared off in the direction she had been looking, and was taken aback by the beauty of the sky. The dog was still running back and forth with the waves, barking and nipping at the water, behind it, the water ebbed and flowed back and forth from the brightly lit sky, the colors mixing within and behind the clouds as they lazily drifted by.

His previous anxieties forgotten, Tom felt himself take a long, relaxing sigh.

Shiloh glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye, and he thought he had seen her smirk.

“I’m Tom,” he felt like extending a hand to shake hers, but he resisted the urge quickly, gripping his beer a little tighter.

She smirked, “Shiloh.”

“Not much for parties?” he asked after another long moment of nothing but the sound of the waves.

Shiloh hugged her knees to her chest, holding her drink in one hand. She didn’t look over at Tom, but took a short sip of the drink and then cleared her throat, “I’m not really much for anything nowadays…” she trailed off.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the party, where they were laughing and telling jokes, the alcohol loosening everyone up. Then he looked back at the woman beside him, and quickly looked her over while she wasn’t watching him. She was thin, almost skin and bones if he could accurately tell in her crouched position, she had long dark hair that was wrapped up in a messy pony tail behind her neck. Her skin was pale, despite the beautiful days of sun on the island. She was wearing sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt, even with the gorgeous weather they had today, and she seemed to hug herself to keep herself from trembling.

Tom suddenly found himself suddenly feeling sorry for her, “what’s your dog’s name?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer, just for the sake of conversation.

She looked back at him, as if just now remembering he was still there, and then watched her dog for a moment, “Barley,” she said quietly. After another minute passed, she added, “I’m sorry for being such a bitch earlier, when he got loose.”

Surprised by the quick curse, Tom smirked, “no need to apologize.”  
She looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together with a who are you kidding type of look across her face. He felt his smirk widen into a smile and he glanced down at his beer.

“Please send me the bill for your coat,” she added breathlessly, hugging herself tighter and taking another long sip of her drink. He looked over at her, questioningly. She felt him watching her, and looked back at him,

“Barley, he got it all muddy, there’s a laundrette near the market, they do dry-cleaning, I want to pay for it,” she sounded like she was trying to explain the concept to someone who didn’t speak English.

Finally Tom’s expression and brain seemed to catch up to each other, and he could react, he waved off her gesture with his free hand, “it’s no problem, no big deal.”

“Please, I feel bad about it – it looked like a new coat.”

He chuckled, then sighed, “all right, well, I will let you know.”

She nodded, then looked back at her playful dog. Tom watched the dog too, he watched the colors change in the sky, the clouds morph across in an ever-changing piece of art. He felt like time had slowed down, as if everything else was on ‘pause.’

“It really is beautiful here,” he said quietly. 

She glanced over at him, smiled softly, nodding, “you’re settling right in, aren’t you?”

He smiled at her, glimpsing her wide grin momentarily before she looked away, “this place is intoxicating,” he said pointedly.

She nodded, “it really is. Like a whole different world.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asked, he mentally kicked himself for asking Phyllis about her earlier, he hated asking questions he already knew the answers to.

Shiloh fidgeted in her seat in the sand, then drained her glass. She cleared her throat, straightening her back for a moment, “I’ve been here….fourteen years.”

He nodded, “that’s a long time.”

She smiled, “how long are you here for?”

He looked over at her, and this time she didn’t look away. Her eyes were big, the deep, dark color of his favorite kind of chocolate. Her lips were full and soft; it looked like she bit her bottom lip often, probably without even thinking about it. He pulled himself out of his gaze, looked her back in the eyes and said softly, “three months… well, now it’s two months and three weeks.”

She snickered, “counting the days?”

Her laugh fluttered through him and he chuckled, “yes, I’ve got a huge calendar in the living room, checking off each day,” he joked. Her laugh grew and she swiftly covered her mouth, the frolicking dog looked back at them for a moment, but then turned back to the waves.

She looked at Tom in feigned rebuke, then took a breath, “why so long? Won’t you be missed?”

He chuckled and glanced back at the partygoers, then back at Shiloh, “I’m taking a much needed holiday. Work will be waiting for me when I get back home.”

She nodded, “and home is where, London?”

“How’d you know?”

A slightly guilty smile crept across her lips, she shrugged, “I might live on a tiny island, cut off from the rest of the world, but I know who  _you_  are.”

He felt his face flush, for the first time in ages he felt the rush of excitement in his belly that was different from the mixture of meeting someone new and being recognized. He had always had that half-excited, half-nervous tingle when he got to meet someone new, or a fan asked for his autograph, but this was something different. This was the real world again, where people were ordinary, there weren’t ‘movie stars’ and ‘regular people,’ people were just people. He had almost been able to completely forget about that strange and surreal life he had temporarily left behind. Now that he was reminded of it, the blood rushed to his cheeks, and he smiled nervously, “you do?”

She nodded, she was more vibrant and beautiful now that she was coming out of her shell, “I watch movies, like most people do.”

His grin broadened, “may I ask what you’ve seen me in?”

She laughed, “oh well, just a little ‘independent’ picture, not too many people heard of it, just  _The Avengers_ ,” she joked.

Their laughter traveled across the beach and mingled momentarily with the laughter coming from the rest of the party. Tom half-heartedly remembered he had an untouched beer in his hand, then realized he had no desire for it. Sitting here chatting with this interesting woman was better than any intoxicating beverage.

“What did you think of it?”

“Oh I love comic-book movies, I thought it was great.”

“Did you see it in the theater?”

Her smile caught half way and she looked at him, “actually, I did. Sadly, Burray doesn’t have a theater, but I was in Edinburgh at the time, and saw it with my family.”

One of his eyebrows rose of its own accord, “do you travel a lot?” he couldn’t help but ask her all these questions, they seemed to simply roll off of his tongue, he caught himself wondering if she would consider him nosey or charmingly inquisitive.

She smirked, “I do a bit of traveling. Probably not as much as you, though.”

He smirked back, “that’s part of the reason I wanted to take a long holiday, in one place.”

She nodded, “be  _stationary_  for a while?”

He looked at her, “exactly.”

The sun was lower now, casting a dim light over the beach and the partygoers beyond them. The ocean water was growing darker, and Barley had stopped running with the waves and resulted in trotting around, tongue lolling, glancing back at where Tom and Shiloh were sitting.

“Well, I think the party’s coming to an end,” Shiloh said after a moment. Tom glanced back at Richard and the rest of them, and saw that they were indeed starting to pack up the food and drinks. He climbed out of his seat in the sand, trying to get to his feet as gracefully as he could. Shiloh was about to unfold herself from her crouched position when Tom reached a hand down towards her.

“Let me,” he offered, and she smiled as she put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. She was lighter than he had expected, he almost pulled her right into him accidentally, but she caught her stance and landed on her feet.

Smiling wide, she wiped sand from her hands and the seat of her pants, then patted her legs and Barley started to roam towards them.

“Do you like dogs?” she asked before the Sheppard reached them.

Tom nodded, “love them.”

“Want to meet Barley?” she asked. He watched her as the dog came over and she leaned down to run her hand over his head. Not quite sure what she meant by her question, Tom just shrugged and nodded. Shiloh responded to the nod by straightening up, and looking down at Barley.

“Barley, say hello,” she said in a firm voice. The dog sat back on his haunches and panted at the two of them for a moment, then barked once, loud and echoing across the beach. Tom laughed and Barley smiled at him. Shiloh smiled, then looked over at Tom, “you can shake his paw.”

He gawked at her, “really?”

She laughed, “yeah, just hold out your hand.”

Tom smiled warily, then crouched slightly and held his hand out, palm up, towards the dog. “Hi there Barley,” he said, and the dog reached a paw out and smacked it into Tom’s palm. Tom laughed and gently gripped the dog’s paw, shaking it slightly as if he really was shaking hands with another human. He looked back over his shoulder at Shiloh, giggling, “that’s amazing. He’s well trained!”

Barley took his paw back and sauntered over to Shiloh. She ruffled his fur and looked back at Tom, “he was trained as a guard dog, originally. He’s more of a roommate now than a guard dog,” she said with a snigger.

“Does he pay rent?” Tom joked.

Before Shiloh could reply, though he beaming smile was enough of a response for Tom, a chortling Phyllis came wobbling over with a half-empty beer in her hand. She grasped Tom’s arm quickly and clung to him for a moment, “my dears, are you two playing nice?”

Shiloh and Tom exchanged glances, then both smiled. Billy, the soberest of the partygoers even though it was his celebration, came over and took Phyllis’ other arm, “come on Phyl, I’ll take you home.”

“Should we help them dismantle the shindig?” Tom asked as he and Shiloh watched Billy lead the wobbly Phyllis up to his car. Richard was being led away by his wife Molly, and the few other members of the community that Tom had been introduced to were all starting to disband.

“It’ll be fine for tonight,” Shiloh waved a hand at the empty tables and chairs they’d all left behind, “Richard will be back for it all in the morning.”

He looked over at her, “would you like me to walk you home?”

She smiled sweetly, “you don’t have to, I’m farther than you. The fields are a bit treacherous between our two houses, they’re full of sink holes, it’s not very safe this time of day.”

He looked up the hill towards his own cottage, then off in the distance towards her home, “how do you get up there, from here?”

Shiloh let out a chuckle, pointing towards the opposite end of the beach, towards the tree line that bordered the sand at that end, “there’s a path, it heads right up the hill to my place,” she glanced back at him, then added, “but you’d have to come back down and cross the beach again just to get back up to yours.”

“I don’t mind the hike.”

She smirked, looked at him for a moment, then shrugged, “all right, if you want.”


	4. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Slight AU where Tom has three months off between filming Crimson Peak and High Rise) Tom decides to take a long holiday to unwind and refresh, and he goes to the remote Scottish Isles, specifically the small island of Burray, to do so. He enjoys the community, the quiet life, and the scenery, and is introduced to an inhabitant of the island he actually has heard of, a former famous author, Shiloh Winters, who removed herself from public life after a violent attack years ago. Over time, the two become friends and connect over similar views and experiences, and other things they have in common, and eventually, they fall in love. Will Tom and Shiloh be able to make their relationship work? Will Shiloh be able to deal with being thrust back into the public eye? What dangers from her dramatic past might be waiting for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Shiloh spend some more time together after meeting at the party. He is enchanted by her vulnerability, but also by her charm and their mutual interests. It's odd for him to have met someone like her in this secluded paradise, but he welcomes the blossoming friendship eagerly.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Tom walked with one hand in his jacket pocket, the other still holding his unopened beer, watching the waves as they crossed the beach, every so often glancing over at Shiloh. She was looking out into the setting sun, as the sky grew darker and darker, and was smiling to herself, as Barley trotted around them and bounded in and out of the edge of the water, prancing in front of them and smiling back at them every few moments.

“It must take some getting used to, living up here, all by yourself,” he said after a long silence.

She glanced back at him as she began to lead him up the trail that wound up into the trees, then smirked, “at first, yeah….” she glanced down at her footing, “but when you want to get away from it all, this is one of the most ideal places to do it.”

She smirked and turned back to continue on up the path. Tom walked behind her, watching where she stuck her feet as she went, making sure to put his own feet in the same spots. The thought of being injured out here, even if it was something minuscule like a sprained ankle, still made him wary,  _what did they do for a hospital or for emergencies around here?_

Barley trotted past him and went up to walk next to Shiloh as they hiked, Tom watched his tail wag at an odd pace as the three of them made their way up the hill. The dog looked up at his owner every few steps, watching her; it was an odd sight to see but partly endearing as well.  
The path led through the small forest only for a few moments, and there was still light enough to see, even with the thick trees overhead. Shiloh glanced back at him a few times as they walked, but once the trail started to widen and the wild brush started to clear away, their footing became less dangerous, and she didn’t feel the need to keep an eye on him.

They stepped out of the trees, still mounting the side of the hill, and she stepped up onto an edge of grass that seemed slightly out of place, until Tom mounted that same ledge and saw the view. The sight caught him by surprise, and took his breath away even more than the hike had done. From where they stood, at the edge of the field where it disappeared into the thicket of trees, he could see practically the entire island. As if Shiloh’s little cottage was at the very tip of the blotch of land, and everything past that point was below her stoop. He glanced over at her, as she stood a few feet behind him, arms crossed against the rising breeze, smirking to herself, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“This is beautiful!” he called over to her, and she smiled wide, struggling to catch her breath. He looked back to the view in front of him, putting a hand up to shield his eyes from the last few beams of the setting sun. He could see the beach clearly, the stragglers of the party still getting ready to leave, he saw the little cottage he had been calling home for that week, and beyond it the road leading back towards town, the lights of the distant village peeking back at him through trees and rooftops in the distance.

“Wow,” he said breathlessly, watching the scenery that lay out before him for another moment, before turning back to Shiloh and her dog. When he did, he saw her standing, half crouched, her hands on her legs, she looked like she might be sick.

Tom rushed over to her, a hand landing quickly and lightly on her back, “are you alright?” he asked, worried.

Shiloh jumped at his touch and pulled away from him, one of her arms clutching at her stomach, the other holding up a hand to him as she caught her breath. He watched her for a moment, holding out one hand to her in case she might faint, but she just looked at him with a pained expression, struggling to take a deep breath.

“I-I’m sorry,” she gasped, her breath was jagged, raspy, but she was finally getting a hold of it. She took one more deep breath, before standing up straight and looking embarrassed, “I get winded…easily,” she managed. Barley stood next to her, watching her carefully. Tom neared her with a step, but the dog seemed to come between them, whether he thought he was guarding Shiloh from Tom, or just protecting her in general, Tom wasn’t sure, but he stopped where he was. Shiloh reached down and patted the dog on the head, then looked back at Tom, one hand absentmindedly rubbing her chest, smirking uncomfortably, “do you want to come in?” She didn’t really sound enthused, as if the offer was just out of manners, but she tried to smile at him nonetheless.

Tom smiled, fingers fumbling around the beer he still had in his hand, he waved his free hand at her apologetically, shaking his head, “I don’t want to impose.”

Shiloh laughed a small, hoarse laugh; “it’s fine Tom, if you want to come in for some coffee, or tea… It’s no bother.”

Tom glanced around, the sun was behind the clouds now, it would be dark enough soon that it might be hard for him to get back to his own house, and he barely knew the path as it was, “I probably should get back while there’s still light,” he suggested.

Shiloh looked up at the sky, studying the clouds. She looked back at him and nodded, “you’ve got a point,” she said softly. She put her hands on her hips as she watched the sky, then looked back at him, “you sure you’ll be able to get back all right? I could send Barley with you.”

He thought for a moment at the suggestion, but waved her off, “I’ll be alright,” he smiled jovially, “are you going to be ok?”

Now she waved him off, trying to downplay the situation, “I’m fine.” She looked over at the trees they had just emerged from, her brow creased, “will you call me, when you get back to the cottage? So I know you got back all right?”

Tom smirked, “I would need your phone number.”

She smiled radiantly, an odd smile as she was still catching her breath. She pulled a phone out of her sweatpants pocket and began touching the screen, “give me yours,” she smirked. He recited off his number as she typed, then watched her as she fiddled with the phone for another few seconds, before he felt his own vibrate in his pocket.

He pulled it out and saw an unknown number calling him, he smirked at her, “who could this be?” he asked jokingly, and she laughed quietly. She hung up and his phone stopped vibrating, he put the phone back in his pocket and looked back at her. She was watching him.

“Call me once you get in, please,” she called after him a few moments later, when he had said good night and had turned back towards the forest. He said that we would, and as he traipsed back into the thicket of trees, watching where he put his feet, even in the fading light, he heard her close her front door behind her.

**~*~**

  
Almost fifteen minutes later, Tom unlocked the front door to the cottage and quickly closed it behind him. On his way through the trees and across the now-deserted beach, the wind had picked up and the light had disappeared quickly. In spite of his jacket, he shivered and rubbed his arms. He went to the thermostat on the wall near the kitchen door, and turned the heat up a few degrees, then removed his jacket and hurried into the bedroom to find his black sweater.

When he came back out from the hallway, he picked his jacket up from the couch and pulled the phone out of the pocket. He looked at the unknown number that had dialed him a few minutes ago and grinned to himself, then dialed it.

After one ring, he heard Shiloh’s breathless voice, “Tom?”

“Just got in, everything’s fine,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh thank god,” she let out a sigh, “you had me worried.”

He laughed, “really?”

She chuckled, sounding obviously relieved, “I had all these visions of you getting lost in the woods, twisting your ankle, I was worried I’d just sent a movie star off to his death,” she snickered.

He couldn’t help but laugh, “that’s a wild imagination you’ve got there.”  
She agreed, “it comes with the territory.”

The two of them were silent for another moment, Tom picked up the still-unopened beer and brought it to the fridge. He walked back into the living room, rubbing his hands together to try and warm his fingers, his phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, “what are you doing tomorrow?” he finally asked, kicking himself for waiting as long as he had.

There was only silence from Shiloh’s end of the conversation for a few beats, and Tom took the phone in one hand to glance at it and make sure the call hadn’t been lost. He put it back to his ear, as she finally cleared her throat, “um, well, I’m free in the morning, I’ve got a business call around noon though…”

“Would you like to get some tea? Or coffee?”

She muffled a slight giggle, took a breath, and it was as if he could hear her smile through the phone, “sure, that sounds nice, there’s a nice little place up the road from Phyllis’ bakery.”

“What time?”

“How does nine sound? Too early?”

“Nine is perfect,” he found himself grinning.

She sniggered quietly to herself, “see you then.”

**~*~**

The next morning, Tom found himself quite excitable and anxious while he waited to go to tea with Shiloh. The previous night, before getting ready for bed and after his short phone conversation with the mysterious writer, he had thought about it for what felt like hours, flip flopping back and forth on a question he had begun to ask himself earlier in the evening.

_Should I research what happened to her, in more detail? Or should I leave well enough alone, and let her tell me when she’s ready, if it comes to that? Am I so curious and nosey that I need to know right now everything that happened over a decade ago? It’s not even any of my business, I’ve only just met her. How would I feel, if it had been me, and someone I barely knew was snooping around in my past and looking up something like that, without even having the balls to ask me to my face? But is it really ‘snooping,’ if the information is readily available on the internet? Would such a technicality like that really make me feel better, if I did the research, read about her ordeal, and then went to tea with her tomorrow and acted like I knew nothing? It was hard enough pretending that I didn’t know her dog’s name, when both Richard and Phyllis had told it to me already… What right do I have to be so callous and deceitful to this poor woman? She was perfectly lovely, a little anxious, a little standoffish, but she gave me absolutely no reason whatsoever to invade her privacy like that…_

In the end, as he tossed and turned in his bed, he bit his lip and brought his phone up to his eyes and mentally called himself a cunt as he typed Shiloh’s name into the search engine. A few moments later, after passing over the short article he had read earlier in the week, he found a more detailed discussion of what had happened to her on a fan website’s message board, and he scrolled down through the webpage.

One user wrote “ _I wish Winters would come out of hiding and write a new sequel for the series. Can you imagine how popular it would be? After over a decade with nothing, if she came out with a new book, it’d fly off the shelves. It’d be even bigger than King’s first book after his car accident, it’d be huge!_ ”

Someone else replied, “ _You can’t blame her for not writing anymore, after that crazy fucker stabbed her, I’d want to steer clear of big crowds and fans too! I heard she lost a lung because of that Jonas fucker!”_  


Intrigued, forgetting about his internal discussion earlier, Tom continued on, “ _Yeah I read a report years ago that she lost a lung and a kidney because of how he stabbed her. I heard she moved out of the states and moved to somewhere in Europe, and has like, extreme anxiety now, which doesn’t surprise me_.”

Another replied, “ _Albert Jonas was sent to an institution for the criminally insane in 2003, he’s gonna be in there for the rest of his life. He was convinced the demons in her novels were real, and that the only way to save Winters was to kill her, so I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but there’s really no reason for her to still be in hiding. Does she think that people are still going to be after her? After all this time?_ ”

Another user chimed in, “ _Shiloh was a babe, when ‘The Darkness Within’ first came out, I only started reading them because I saw her photo on the back cover. I wonder if she still looks good, or if she’s all scarred up and gross-looking_.”

Someone who had posted earlier, “ _Don’t be a fuck-head, she didn’t get stabbed in the face asshole! She got stabbed in the chest and stomach. I read she was stabbed seven times, four times in the chest, twice in the stomach, and once in the leg somewhere_.”

Another user had typed, “ _Even if she was all scarred up, I wouldn’t throw her out of bed, you guys remember the sex scenes in her books? That bitch is probably a dynamite in the sack!_ ”

After that, Tom didn’t feel like reading anymore. He closed the site, and randomly opened his email to see if anyone had written him. He looked at the email he had read earlier from Ben, and decided since he wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon, he might as well reply to his friend while he was thinking of it.

_Ben: I know you were just teasing, no harm done. How are things on set? I was talking to Mark about the Sherlock rumors but he wouldn’t give me any more details, so I have no idea. Things are great here, this island is so beautiful, like I was telling you before, it’s a completely different world up here. I’ll try to take some pictures and text them to you, I’ve been so engulfed in the beauty and splendor of my surroundings, I’ve come quite used to not having my phone glued to my hand anymore. I feel rejuvenated and…reborn in a way, and it’s only been a week! Now don’t tell anyone mate, but I just met someone very interesting, she’s…very unique, but I don’t want to say anything more right now. I’m having tea with her in the morning…_

He couldn’t think of anything else to write, so he clicked ‘ _send_ ,’ and double-checked his alarm. When he was sure that it would wake him with enough time to get ready, he turned the screen off and tried to turn over and force himself to sleep.

A few hours later, his alarm went off, and Tom woke up sluggish and foggy. He leaned against the counter in the kitchen, a strong cup of coffee clutched in his hands, staring off into the distance, waiting for the caffeine to do its job. He showered, dressed, and was in the car by half past eight, knowing he would be early to the tea shop downtown, which was fine. He hoped to get another coffee in him before Shiloh showed up.

He ordered the largest cup they had and sat at the table in the window, the shop had only just opened so he had his pick of seats. He looked out the window as he sipped the hot beverage, and watched the fluffy clouds float past the rooftops across the street. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day; he wondered what he should do after tea with Shiloh.  
From where he sat in the window of the tea shop, he could see down the street pretty well, and when he saw the black car that he had seen Shiloh driving before, pull up into a parking space a few car lengths away, Tom felt a sudden surge of anxious nerves bubble inside his stomach. As Shiloh got out of her car and started to walk towards the café, flashes of the discussion board he had surfed onto the night before flickered across his mind’s eye, he heard phrases from the many posts about Shiloh’s attack whiz through his ears, and he found himself looking down at the table as she walked into the café. She waved at him and he flashed a tiny, guilty smile back at her as she walked up towards the counter to order her drink. When she had gotten her cup and came walking towards his table, he took a deep breath and tried his best to look happy.

“Hi,” she said softly as she sat down with her tea, dropping her handbag on the floor next to her chair, “how are you?”

He smiled and eyed his coffee for another moment before daring to glance up at her, when he did, he was taken aback by her appearance. She had her hair down, it wasn’t as long as he had thought it was, but was a shoulder-length, tamed mess of wavy curls. She was dressed in jeans and a baggy coat, despite the sun shining through the friendly clouds outside. If he hadn’t seen the look on her face, he might’ve thought she looked radiant and bubbly. One glance at the ragged, worn expression across those pouty lips, and he felt his shoulders sink, all thoughts of the information he had been reading about the night before quickly fell away from his thoughts.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, sitting up in his chair and leaning on his elbows on the table, “are you alright?”

She blushed, her cheeks flooding a fiery pink, and she played with the string of her tea bag, not looking up at him, “looks like we’re a pair of sleep-deprived misfits, this morning, huh?” she asked sarcastically.

He smirked, “it’s that noticeable?”

She laughed quietly, finally looking up to meet his gaze, “I’d blame it on the storm, but that wouldn’t be true, not for me. What kept you up all night?”

Tom sighed and glanced up at the ceiling, searching for an answer that wasn’t truly a lie. He let exhaled slowly, then smiled, “bad dreams,” he shrugged, “I guess.”

She nodded, looking down at her tea again. He watched her fiddle with the string for another minute, before he leaned in closer and reached his fingers out to touch her own. She shied away quickly, pulling her hand out from under his, and he pulled his own back after a moment.  
They sat there; Shiloh staring at the tabletop, with her hands in her lap, Tom watching her, one hand across the table, frozen in surprise.

“Sorry,” she tried to smile, but her bottom lip quivered and she didn’t look up at him. She rubbed her hands together nervously, then slowly reached out for her tea. He brought his own hands back and placed them both on his coffee, and she slowly relaxed her grip on her own cup, “I don’t mean to be… weird,” she said in a shaky voice.

"You’re not weird! It’s all right,” he said quietly, "you have every right to feel comfortable." She glanced up at him then, brown eyes wide, he wasn’t sure if she was holding back a smile or a sob, but then she let out a quick, skeptical laugh, and glanced out the window.

Tom leaned on the table again, but he didn’t dare reach across towards her, he put one hand up to his face, fingers laying lightly across his jaw, watching her. She stared blankly out the window for a moment, her fingers at her lip, absentmindedly picking the skin there, then she smirked to herself and tore herself away from the glass, “I have issues…mainly anxiety issues, but I have issues with  _people_. I –“ she cut herself off and looked up at him, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, she saw his gaze and lowered her own to his hand on his face, as if it was safer to look at that, rather than his blue eyes, “I was… I was attacked, years ago.”

“I know,” he said flatly. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and he tried to hide his own shocked expression at his sudden honesty. He fumbled over his words, “I, uh….” He tried to smile; “I recognized your name, and you, from my copy of  _The Darkness Within_ … I’m sorry, I should have said, yesterday… I’m an arse- ”

“No,” she let loose a quick, but still pleasant smile, “you’re not an  _arse_ , Tom, it’s fine,” she smiled curtly for another moment. Glancing down and taking a quick sip of her tea, “I bet you’re used to people saying they’re ‘big fans,’ or telling you which one of your films is their favorite… but it’s…” she looked down at the cup again, she seemed to be fighting the urge to look out the window again, “it’s been a long time since I’ve had  _anyone_  tell me they knew who I was.”

He watched her, then let his gaze fall to his coffee, one hand resting lightly on the handle, he wasn’t sure what to say, or  _if_  he should say anything. After a moment, he took a deep breath, “I’m a big fan of your books, by the way,” he said, partly hoping to change the subject, or at least make her smile again.

She did smile, glancing up at him over her tea, she swallowed the sip she had taken and let out a slight giggle, “please! They’re so old, you were probably a teenager when I was writing them!”

He laughed, “I was at Uni,” she smirked at this and he smiled wide, “they scared the  _shit_  out of me.”

She laughed loudly, covering her mouth even though it was just the two of them in the café. She glanced around quickly then back at him, still chortling, “they did _not_!”

He laughed, leaning towards her again, “they did! I had a hard time sleeping for weeks afterwards.”

She laughed again, “oh my lord…”

He chuckled; glad to see her laughing and smiling, “would you like to go for a walk?”

Her smile faded, she looked down at her tea, then out the window at the weather, mulling it over in her head. She smiled back at him and nodded, “I’ve got a few hours,” she said with a wide grin.

The two of them took their hot drinks to go, and began their walk down the sidewalk. As they walked, Shiloh pointed out various notable spots of the main street, areas where something interesting had happened, even if it had been years ago. Tom found her commentary on the island much more objective than Phyllis’ or Richard’s, most likely because she hadn’t grown up on the island. Shiloh called the island home, she loved every inch of it, but she still travelled to the mainland, she had connections outside that seemed to keep her grounded, she saw the island from the point of view of both a native and an outsider at the same time.

Their stroll, which led them up and down the main streets of the village, took just over an hour and a half, which finally led them back to the café, where they had both parked alongside the pavement. Tom was still laughing, a broad grin across his face, his cheeks sore from suppressed giggles, as Shiloh had been telling him about one time when Barley had caused a ruckus in the middle of the street when he had decided to try and jump into a slow-moving car which a fancy poodle had been sitting.   
Shiloh finished her story, which had Tom’s stomach turning from laughing consistently, then glanced down at her watch, still giggling herself, “oh shit.”

Tom looked at his own watch, it was just past eleven, “what’s wrong?” he asked, his laughter dying out from his face.

She smiled warily, “I’ve got a business call at noon, bloody agents keep hassling me to put out another book,” she sighed, looking up at him, “this was nice though,” she said with a sweet smile.

He beamed down at her, they were standing between their cars, she had confessed to recognizing the old car Richard loaned out to his tenants, and parking directly in front of it. He glanced around, the streets were much busier now than they had been an hour or so ago, it seemed the little village woke up later than he did, at least today it did.

“I’ve had a wonderful time, I’m sorry you have business to attend to, will it be a long call? Boring?” he asked with a smirk.

She sniggered, “of course, I’m sure it will be all of that,” she laughed and unlocked her car. She threw her purse into the passenger side door and closed it, the car keys dangling from one hand as she turned back to look at him, a strange look upon her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, startled by her expression.

She smiled, shaking her head, “nothing,” he laughed a quick sigh of relief, then she continued, “what are you doing for dinner tonight?”

Tom shrugged, “same thing I’ve been doing for the past week now, dinner for one, internet and TV while I eat.”

“Well that sounds entirely too sad for a big Hollywood actor on vacation,” she smirked, “why don’t you come over and have dinner with us?”

“ _Us_?”

She laughed, “sorry,  _me and Barley_. I swear, sometimes I refer to him like another human, it’s pathetic!” she smiled.

He grinned, shaking his head, “it’s endearing,” her smile faded when he said it, and she watched him for a moment, the ghost of a smile still present upon her, then he continued, “I’d love to come over for dinner, should I bring anything? Wine?”

She considered for a moment, her grin returning, then shook her head, “I’ve got plenty of wine. If you want to bring over some music, I’m always keen to hear new music.”

He smiled, “I can do that.”

“Good,” she grinned, stepping around to the driver’s side door, “how about seven?”

He nodded, “seven it is.”


	5. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Slight AU where Tom has three months off between filming Crimson Peak and High Rise) Tom decides to take a long holiday to unwind and refresh, and he goes to the remote Scottish Isles, specifically the small island of Burray, to do so. He enjoys the community, the quiet life, and the scenery, and is introduced to an inhabitant of the island he actually has heard of, a former famous author, Shiloh Winters, who removed herself from public life after a violent attack years ago. Over time, the two become friends and connect over similar views and experiences, and other things they have in common, and eventually, they fall in love. Will Tom and Shiloh be able to make their relationship work? Will Shiloh be able to deal with being thrust back into the public eye? What dangers from her dramatic past might be waiting for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The friendship between Tom and Shiloh begins to get a little more interesting over dinner and drinks afterward. Tom is once again, mystified by this intriguing woman, and they have a rousing discussion about the difficulties of fame and the surreal world that surrounds it. Their connection is apparent to them both, but Shiloh is still wary of new friendships.

Tom drove the rental car up the stone path that was Shiloh’s driveway and slowed to a stop. The sky was calm, a thin, warm summer breeze was softly moving the trees where they stood beyond her home. The sun was setting in the distance and he could hear the ocean crashing nearby. Tom grabbed his phone from the empty passenger seat, slid it into his pants pocket, and got out of the car. He could hear Barley barking excitedly at the front door, and Shiloh’s muffled voice calling after the dog, he smiled to himself as he walked.

He straightened his dress shirt nervously as he got to the front door and knocked lightly on the wood. After a moment of hushed rustling, in which he could hear her telling the dog to ‘stay,’ Shiloh finally opened the door and beamed at him, “Hey there,” she said happily, taking a step back to allow him to step inside.

She closed the door behind him, and Tom took a quick look around the main room and decided that the layout was very similar to the cottage he was living in at the moment, Unlike his own temporary home, though, Shiloh had made this cozy cottage her own by filling it with items that made the place feel like a real home, not just a vacation spot.

There was a fluffy couch against the opposite wall from where he stood by the door, a small television mounted on the wall across from it, she had a fireplace underneath where the television was, and a cozy-looking arm chair set in front of it. A glass coffee table sat between the two seats, and the other two walls of the room, Tom quickly noticed, were lined with crammed bookshelves.

Shiloh and Barley came up next to him and he smiled brightly, she grinned, “it’s not much,” she started, but he knew what she was about to say, and he cut her off.

“It’s fantastic,” he exclaimed. She caught his eye, and smiled in surprise.

“Want the tour?” she asked, using air quotes. He chuckled quietly and nodded eagerly. She let out a short giggle, then turned and motioned towards the living room, “well, as you can see, this is the living room,” she stepped in front of him, towards a door he hadn’t noticed. “Through here is the kitchen and dining room,” then she stepped around him. He followed her down the short hallway, “bathroom, or ‘loo,’ as I’ve been told,” she laughed, “office, bedroom.”

“You have an extra room?” he asked, as they walked back into the living room and Barley followed. She nodded, “I thought the two cottages were identical,” he added.

She turned and smiled at him, “ _almost_. I had some work done when I first moved in.”

He nodded, looking around the quaint living room, then at his hostess. She had gotten more dressed up than he had seen her before. She had a knee-length skirt on, and a nice button-up shirt with flowing sleeves. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, her wavy curls dancing across her shoulders as she talked. She blushed and laughed nervously.

Tom smiled, “what’s wrong?”

Shiloh shook her head, laughing, “I never thought I’d have a movie star in my house.”

Tom laughed, his hands in his pockets out of nerves. He anxiously gripped his phone in the one pocket, then looked around her living room, eyeing the book shelves, “I’m hardly a movie star, and you have a beautiful home, Shiloh,” he said quietly.

She smiled wider, then covered her mouth with her hand nervously. They stood there for a moment, Barley came to sit on the floor between them, looking up at them, anticipating something. Tom reached down and pat the dog lightly on the head as Shiloh watched.

“I hope you like steak, you’re not a vegetarian, are you?” she looked suddenly worried.

He shook his head, “I could never stop eating red meat,” he said as he finished petting Barley.

Shiloh looked relieved, then she smiled, “well then I hope you know your way around a kitchen, I’m putting you to work.”

Tom laughed, shrugging off his coat, “well you’re in luck, I love to cook.”  
She smiled so brightly at him, as she took his coat and hung it on the wall near the door. She came back to him and he followed her through the living room and into the kitchen. It was bigger than the kitchen in his cottage, but by no means extravagant. She had a nice island in the center, and the smells of fresh herbs and vegetables suddenly eased any anxieties he had been feeling.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked, clapping his hands together, eager to help.

She smirked and pointed towards the island, where an array of vegetables were laid out and a cutting board ready for him, “could you chop us up the salads, while I work on the potatoes?”

He went to the sink to wash his hands, then turned and found the knife block next to the station she had made for him. He smiled broadly as he pulled out the chopping knife and looked down at the onion that was sitting on the chopping board.

“Do you mind if I run the tap?” he asked, Shiloh turned to him, questioningly, “in order to chop the onion?”

She smiled, still a little confused, “sure?” she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he turned the faucet on to the hottest setting, and let the water run while he began to chop the onion on the counter near the sink. As she watched, Tom looked up and winked at her.

“A friend told me about this little secret, for chopping onions,” he said with a smile.

Shiloh let out a low laugh, then continued with the potatoes. Tom finished chopping the onion and moved on to the few carrots she had, and the head of lettuce.

“Bowls are right up there,” she pointed to a cupboard near him, when she noticed he was done chopping vegetables. Tom opened the cupboard, pulled out a large bowl, and set it on the counter in front of him. Shiloh came over and set a pair of salad scissors in front of him, and he smiled as she walked by towards the oven, to check on the steaks. He loaded the bowl with his salad fixings, then used the scissors to mix up the chopped bits. He rested the salad scissors on top of the bowl, turned the faucet down to a more tolerable temperature and rinsed his hands under the water, then turned, towel in hand.

“What else can I do?” he asked, drying his hands.

Shiloh shut the oven door and looked at him, smiling as she looked around the kitchen, “you can take the salad out to the table,” she pointed towards the door on the other side of the kitchen.

Tom grabbed the large salad bowl and pushed open the door to find the small dining room spread before him. The table was set, a pair of unlit candles sitting in the center, they looked like they’d never been used before. He set the bowl down on the table and glanced around, the room was plain except for the view. The wall opposite where he stood was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, one of them a glass door that opened out onto a small wooden deck, and the sunlit ocean was calmly churning beyond in the distance.

He heard Shiloh come through the door from the kitchen, and she placed a set of empty salad bowls on the table, she looked at him, looking out the windows, “beautiful view, isn’t it?” she asked.  
He looked at her, smiled, “it’s exceptional.”

They finished making the meal in the kitchen, Shiloh had shown him the stereo she had set up on the counter, and he plugged his phone into it and turned on a playlist he had made earlier that evening. She instructed him to go and sit down at the table and she would bring the plates in for them. He sat at the table, alone for a moment, and felt odd being alone in someone else’s house, waiting to be served. He glanced out the window again to see the last bit of sunlight peeking through the clouds, then turned when Shiloh came into the room. She came in carrying two plates, and set one down in front of him. He watched her as she took her own around to the other side of the table and sat down with it.

Tom unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, watching her from across the table, “steak and mashed potatoes with a side salad,” he smirked as she looked up at him, “I feel so…American.”

She laughed and opened the bottle of wine that she had set out earlier. He held his glass out to her and she tipped the red liquid in, then filled her own glass. He held his up to her, she did the same, then he took a sip, and began to eat. They were quiet for a few moments as they cut their food, the music filtering in softly from the kitchen. As they ate, the sun set lower and lower outside, and the sound of the waves seemed to mix calmly with the sound of their knives and forks, and the melodies from the stereo.

“This is lovely,” he said finally, taking a sip of wine.

She smiled at him, “it’s not much, but it’s one of my favorite meals.”

He grinned, looking around the room, out the window, then back down at his plate and chuckled softly to himself, “what?” she asked, an uncertain smile creeping upon her lips.

He shook his head, “I can’t get over how beautiful it is here, the island, the town, the people, this,” he motioned around the room, “ _you_.” Her cheeks reddened and she glanced down at her salad. Tom smirked nervously, then cleared his throat, “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Shiloh smiled, looking up and around the room, then out the window. She was finished with her meal, she was just nursing her glass of wine. She leaned her elbows on the table and let out a long sigh, “it’s nice to have someone to talk to,” she started, then glanced at him, “even if I did only meet you yesterday,” she said with a smile.

He grinned, “it is nice,” he nodded. He drained his glass and leaned back in his chair, “how did your business call go?” he asked, trying to change to subject, not really sure why.

She shrugged, “like I expected it to.”

“Is your agent still pushing you to write a new book?”

She nodded, “calls me every few weeks, trying to convince me.”

Knowing that this would end up being a touchy subject, he continued, “what…um…what keeps you from writing more?”

She looked at him blankly, then down at the table, half smirking, “I haven’t written a _Darkness Within_  book in fifteen years, the series is finished.”

He nodded, looking around, “it was a good series.”

She smiled flatly, “thank you,” she said without looking up at him.  
“My sister is a writer,” he blurted.

Shiloh looked up at him, eyes wide, and she smiled that marvelous smile, “really?”

He nodded, “well,” he adjusted in his seat, “she’s a journalist.”

“Well, that’s still writing,” she smiled.

He nodded and they drifted back into silence for a few more moments.

Shiloh sat back, looked ready to get up and start clearing the table, but she paused, “do  _you_  write, Tom?”

He looked back at her from the window and shrugged, “a little, I’ve done a few articles for magazines, nothing in depth, really.”

She nodded and stood up, taking her empty plate and salad bowl in her hands. Tom did the same, and followed her back into the kitchen. The two of them bustled around the room for a few minutes, scraping plates and rinsing them in the sink, gathering up the wine glasses and silverware, until finally Shiloh looked around and put her arms around herself, “I think that’s everything.” She glanced at her watch, it had been almost two hours since Tom had arrived, but it felt like practically no time had passed, “would you like to have a drink on the deck with me?”  
He smiled at the idea of another drink, given that they had both just finished half a bottle of wine with dinner, but he nodded and she pulled a few beers out of the fridge. She handed one to him, and then he followed her back through the dining room and out onto the back porch. The air was warm, but the breeze was refreshingly light. The trees of the small forest they had walked through the day before danced quietly in the wind, the fading light of the sun still lingering upon the water as it crashed against the beach below.

There were two chairs out there, set on either side of the small deck, only a few feet apart. Shiloh sat down and opened her beer, then took a sip and placed the bottle on the railing of the deck. Tom sat down, opened his beer, but didn’t take a sip right away, just fiddled with it in his hands. He looked around the serene landscape before them, watching the darkening waves in the distance. After a moment, he looked back at Shiloh to see her watching him.

“What?” he asked lightheartedly.

She smirked, “what’s it like, being a movie star, living in the public eye like you do?”

Tom laughed and finally took a sip of his beer, shrugging, “I try  _not_  to live in the public eye.”

“That’s impossible in the world we live in, with the career you’re in,” she said with a short laugh.

Still smiling, he nodded, then sighed, “it’s definitely a lot more different now, than when I first started.”

She looked intrigued, “did you start in film?”

He shook his head, “theater.”

“Ah,” she nodded, “a true thespian,” he tone wasn’t mocking or phony, but she still smiled at him with that wry grin, “and how different are movies, as opposed to the stage?”

Tom laughed, the last thing he had expected when he came to the island, was to be discussing his career with anyone, let alone a woman who had had her own brush with fame, and who was still as mysterious as she was, “it’s  _completely_ different,” he laughed.

She nodded, as if she knew, glancing off into the distance, “it’s strange, when you have fans….being loved by all these people you’ve never even met.” Her tone had changed suddenly, and as Tom watched her while she spoke, she didn’t look at him, but she rolled her half-drained beer absentmindedly in her hand and stared off into the distance, “all these people have a piece of you, you’ll never know how many there are, but you put a part of yourself out there for everyone to see…and you never  _really_  know who is looking back at you. You can try to be yourself, to be someone true, and… _real_ , but after a while, it breaks you down. It chips away at you, slowly, so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late. Then one day, you’re looking at a pile of fan mail and you’re thinking to yourself, _what galaxy are these people writing from?_  It’s all just so…surreal, and strange…” She drifted off into silence, and Tom realized he was staring at her, mouth agape. She brought herself out of her trance and turned back to him, saw his face, and smiled softly, “sorry.”

He caught himself and smiled quickly, “why?”

She shrugged, “I sound like a bitter old crone, hiding here on my little island,” she laughed sullenly.

He shook his head, leaning forward in his chair, “I don’t think so, this is the most truthful and raw that you’ve ever been with me.”

She smirked, but it looked like she might be close to tears, she sipped her beer and let out a deep sigh, shaking her head slightly, “this is just too many years of thinking about what happened to me…too many years of living alone and separating myself from that whole world…” she smiled to herself, then looked up at him, “but you, Tom, you’re just starting out, right? You’ve got so much to look forward to,” it sounded forced, but he still smiled.

“I’ve seen both sides of the ‘fame monster,’ or whatever you want to call it,” he said quietly, “even in just the past few years…and yes, there are those moments when I take a step back and think to myself,  _what the fuck have I gotten myself into?_  But then I remember how much I love my job, even if it’s an insignificant one…I’m not saving lives, I’m not curing cancer, I’m not even making any notable contributions that might change the way people think…but I love to act. I like to think I’m good at it, or I’m at least  _improving_ , and if the day comes when I stop having fun making films or working on the stage, then that will be the day I quit, and find a new career.” She watched him carefully, perhaps worried she had offended him, but he continued calmly, “I just hate to hear you so callous and worn because of what happened…you had an incredible impact on the literary world, I don’t think you should just  _forget_  about that.”

She smirked, “my  _impact_  on the literary world was nothing more than a series of flimsy science fiction books that scared a handful of people, years ago.”

He shook his head, “you influenced people, a whole generation of writers and film makers, of dreamers and creative minds.”  
She took a deep breath and sighed, “it’s just so exhausting…being a part of  _that_ world.”

He felt his face flush as he looked over at her, not in anger, but in a surprised connection, “why do you think I wanted to take such a long holiday somewhere like this, far removed from everything?” He felt his heart race at the passion behind his words, “I needed a break, to refresh…to get my head straight…to remember who I am, and why I’m doing this…” he felt a heavy breath fall from him, the intensity behind his words washing over him. He tried to laugh it off, and shrugged, “ _that_ …and my father is going to come visit me in a few weeks.”

She watched him, eyes narrowed, studying him for a long moment, then glanced away and took another sip of her beer. She was quiet for a long time, he wasn’t sure if he should continue the conversation or not, he took a sip of beer and looked around the scenery. After a few more moments, Shiloh broke her silence, “tell me something you collect.”

“ _Collect_?” he asked, confused by the sudden change of subject.

She smiled, and nodded, “do you collect anything? Most people do.”

Tom thought for a moment, looking out over the edge of the deck at the dimly lit trees scattered around them, scanning the dark sky and trying to think of something, “I guess…other than collecting books, I like to collect souvenirs from the different countries and cities I’ve been to, where I’ve worked…”

She smiled wider, maybe the alcohol was wearing on her, “do you keep a scrapbook? Something to jot down memories of the places you’ve been?”

He slowly shook his head, “I have a collection of post cards, ones I’ve kept for myself, I try to write down where I bought them, who I was with, on the backs of each one.”

She nodded, “that sounds nice,” taking a sip of beer.

Tom smirked, “nice way to change the subject,” he chuckled.

She laughed under her breath, then shrugged, “it’s been a long day,” she sighed, “we just had a very good meal, and I didn’t want to bring the evening to a full-stop just because I was feeling bitterly nostalgic.”

He looked over at her and she caught his eye, they sat there like that for a moment, just looking at each other; his sea blue ones staring into her chocolate brown ones. Without breaking his gaze, “you are one of the most interesting, and _confusing_  people I’ve ever met.”

Shiloh let the hand holding her beer drift down onto her lap as she gaped at him for a second, before bursting out into laughter. He smiled at her as she laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. When she had gained control of her giggles, she slowly caught her breath, then brought her beer back up to her mouth, and drained it. Still smiling,

Tom took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair, “so what do  _you_  collect?”

She eyed him playfully, then looked up around and thought for a moment, “I collect salt and pepper shakers, Stephen King books, and stamps.”

He nodded, grinning at her choices, then looked at her curiously, “can I see them?”

“What?”

“The salt and pepper shakers.”

She watched him for another beat, still grinning, then pushed herself up out of her chair, and started back into the dining room. Tom left his almost-empty beer on the wooden arm of his chair, and followed her inside. She led him through the dining room, through the kitchen, and back out into the living room, where she turned left, walking past two over-packed book shelves, and stopped in front of a tall, glass-enclosed curio cabinet. Barley was curled up on the couch, he eyed them as they came in, but closed his eyes again when he realized they weren’t doing anything interesting. Tom looked from Shiloh, to the cabinet in front of them, and studied what was inside. Each shelf inside the cabinet was made of glass, and there was a soft yellow light coming from inside the top of the cabinet, basking each level in a warm glow. The top shelf had about a dozen sets; from little kissing German Sheppard dogs, to hugging penguins, to two monkeys hanging off of a ceramic tree, to one that he gawked at for a second, which was two ceramic pigs doing it doggie style. He chuckled to himself and looked at the rest of the sets on the lower shelves; some were more intricate, looking antique and maybe even handed down through generations, others looked more contemporary, some were downright outrageous, such as a sun-bathing beauty whose two large breasts made up the ‘salt,’ and the ‘pepper’ containers.

He stepped back with an immense grin, crossing his arms in front of himself, and let his eyes wander over to the bookshelf nearest to the curio cabinet. His eyes caught on a familiar name and he reached out to run his finger down the binding, “you read Walcott?” He looked back at her, and she nodded, still smiling. He glanced back at the bookshelf, scanning the other nearby books, “you like poetry?” he asked, looking back at her again.

“I  _love_  it, do you?”

He laughed wryly, “if you only  _knew_.”

She giggled, “is he your favorite?”

“I don’t think I could pick just one favorite, who’s yours?”

She thought for a moment, picking at her lip without thinking of it, “it  _is_  difficult to pick only one, mine’s a toss-up between Robinson, and Harvey.”

“Robinson?” he pondered, “Edwin?”

She nodded, happily, “Edwin Arlington Robinson.”

“He wrote Richard Cory, right?”

She nodded more vigorously, beaming, “the man knows his poetry.”

He smiled brightly, “though I don’t think I know Harvey.”

“Matthea Harvey, she’s a contemporary poet, she has a gorgeous style, very unique,” she leaned closer to him and scanned the bookshelf quickly, found what she had been looking for, and pulled a thin, visibly well-read paperback from the shelf. She flipped through it quickly, turned one more page, then handed the open book to Tom, “read this,” she pointed at a short poem on the left page. He took the book in his hands, reading the poem silently to himself.

_Bird Transfer_   
_Unfasten the crows & the clouds_   
_come crashing down. It’s a window_   
_into the lightning-struck-ago:_   
_diamond sunspots on the videotape,_   
_coins hitting the fountain floor._   
_Invent the sun & edition the trees._   
_Center your swan on the pond._

He looked up from the page, eyes wide, “that’s  _gorgeous_.”

She grinned and nodded quickly, then, “you can borrow that, if you want.”

He gently closed the paperback book, watching her suspiciously, “are you sure?”

She giggled, “it’s not like you’re that far away, your cottage is less than half a mile from mine.”

He tried not to smirk, “you only just met me yesterday, and you’re already willing to lend me a book?”

She grinned and stifled a laugh, “well, if you are suddenly  _gone_  in the morning, I’ll know that you came all the way to these isolated Scottish Isles,  _just_  to steal my book.”

He couldn’t contain his laughter, and she joined in as well. He held the book tightly in one hand as they walked to the door, Barley watching them from his curled up position on the couch. Shiloh held the book while Tom put his coat on, then handed it back to him.

“I will protect it with my life,” he grinned.

She smiled softly, “I had a great time tonight, Tom. Sorry about earlier, on the porch…I didn’t mean to vent like that.”

His smile almost faltered, but he caught it, “don’t worry, I had a great time too.”

She hugged herself anxiously, “do you want to have lunch tomorrow?”

He glanced around the room, “here?”

“Is that okay?”

He smiled brightly, “of course! That sounds wonderful.”


	6. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has a surprise delivery the next morning, and has another surprise when he meets up with Shiloh down on the beach after going for a run. The two of them talk some more, start to become even closer, and things start to get complicated for Tom when he starts having feelings for the damaged woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter that I've not been able to get beta-read, because my beta-reader is temporarily indisposed, so please forgive any colloquialisms, dialect, or customs that don't seem to fit with Scottish or British tendencies.

Tom had fallen asleep half dressed, he had slipped out of his dress shirt when he’d gotten home from Shiloh’s, thankful he hadn’t had too far to drive after the glasses of wine and beer. When it had come to changing out of his dress pants though, he had simply sat on the edge of the bed, leaned back into the inviting pillows, and fallen asleep.

He woke groggily the next morning, the sun still low in the sky as he blinked out the kitchen window. He clutched his cup of coffee, bleary-eyed, and leaned against the kitchen counter in his briefs. He had kicked off the dress pants on the way of his bedroom, and the warm summer air felt good on his thighs.

Tom relaxed back onto the couch with his coffee, sitting there for a few moments before realizing what he was staring at. It was the poetry book Shiloh had lent him, the cover staring back at him from the coffee table. He watched it for a moment more, as the sleepiness slowly began to drift away from him, then leaned forward and grabbed it.

He flipped through the paperback, stopping randomly at a short poem, gingerly holding the worn book open and reading it under his breath.

_Can We See_

_What I thought was_  
 _the wind was a bicycle & lo_  
 _my head was halved again._  
 _Red buds measled the ground._  
 _Jealous Narcissus bit the river._  
 _The sky was a memoir of blue._  
 _In between the blades of grass hosanna_  
 _there was much greener grass._

He sat there, suddenly submerged in the book as he turned the page, becoming engulfed in the style and imagery. Suddenly, a knock at the front door startled him. He quickly deposited the coffee mug on the table and scurried down the hall towards his room to find pants. He came back to the front door, dressed in sweat pants, and opened it to find a scruffy looking Richard waiting for him.

“Good morning,” Tom said dazedly, trying to smile.

Richard grinned, then looked over Tom’s shoulder into the living room behind him. Without a word, Richard turned back and made a motion with his arm. Tom stepped aside just in time to let Billy come in carrying a large box that thudded to the floor with a heavy thump when he put it down. Billy straightened up, turned, and nodded curtly to Tom, then disappeared back outside.

Tom looked from the large box on the floor, then back to Richard, “what’s this?” he asked.

Richard shrugged, “it came for you this morning. Angus, the ferryman, was none too pleased.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom started, but Richard waved him off.

“No bother, Angus likes to complain.”

Tom smiled, “thank you, for bringing it up here for me.”

Richard finally smiled, “I wanted to check in, make sure things were all right here for you – you getting’ by alright?”

Tom smirked, running a hand through his hair as he and the older man stood there in the doorway, “everything is great, it’s really wonderful here, thank you Richard.”

The old man grinned and nodded, he glanced back at Billy, who was waiting in the jeep. He turned back to Tom with a quiet chuckle, “listen ol’ boy,” he said jovially, “Molly and Phyllis both wanted me to tell you, this coming weekend is the annual Burray Brawl.”

“The Burray  _Brawl_?”

Richard chuckled again, “it’s a party, the islanders get together at Flannery field, we have a good time, dancing, drinking, celebrating. The kids enjoy it, but the grownups do too,” he winked at him. “The ladies wanted me to invite you, since you’re the newest member of the community.”

Tom dropped his arm suddenly, staring at Richard, then he caught himself and tried to smile, “Richard, I’m touched!” he sniggered.

The old man waved him off again, “so you’ll come?”

“I’d love to.”

Richard looked pleased with himself, he grinned, said his good-byes and turned to join Billy in the jeep. Tom watched them from his doorstep as they drove off, then closed the door and turned towards the box. It was the size of a large computer box, huge and hulking in the middle of the living room floor. He neared it cautiously, then saw an envelope taped to the top with his name on it. He pulled the letter off of the box and ripped it open, finding a quick note from his agent inside.

_Tom,_  
 _This came for you back in February, but you were heading to Canada for Crimson Peak, so I didn’t have time to give it to you. We’ve gone through it, all that’s left is fan letters and gifts, you can make a pile of letters to use the form reply, and if there are any you want to personally reply to, just send them all back and we will take care of it._  
 _Let me know if you plan on coming back early, there are meetings and press we could be doing._  
 _Take care,_  
 _Luke_

Tom smirked down at the letter, laughing quietly to himself.  _Luke wanted him back so badly, he didn’t understand why Tom wanted this holiday, needed it_. He looked back down at the massive box, and put Luke’s letter on top of it. He would go through this later, he didn’t want to do it now. He still felt hazy, he needed a good wake up.

He tried to shake off the fatigue, finishing half his coffee, and returning to his bedroom to change. He emerged dressed in his favorite running outfit, and slipped his phone into the armband as he attached it to his arm. He plugged in his earphones and grabbed the house keys off the table on his way out. He locked up, slipped the keys under the front wheel of the rental car, and started a slow, steady jog down the winding path towards the beach.

**~*~**

As he ran along the beach with his earphones in, the waves adopted a bizarre rhythmic cadence with the beat of the techno mix he was listening to. Seeing the calming, hypnotic crash of each cycle of the water, blasting against the sand, as the energetic beat pounded in his head, it had an odd and strangely soothing effect on him. His head cleared and he finally felt awake, the sun broke through the overcast morning sky and warmed his skin as he jogged back and forth in the sand. He turned back again, towards where he had come down from the path above, and started his fourth succession as the music hammered in his ears. The brisk mist from the ocean bathed him briefly as he ran near an incoming wave, but he continued on, and came to pause near the mouth of the path. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet, taking controlled breaths to try and slow his heart rate, when a sudden brown blur ran past him.

Tom looked up and watched as Barley ran full speed past him along the outgoing waves. He turned quickly and was surprised to see Shiloh walking along the beach, far back near the path that led up to her own house. He glanced back at the frolicking dog, then turned and jogged towards Shiloh.

He pulled his earphones out as he neared her, and she stopped and leaned against one of the large boulders that lined the back of the beach. She climbed up a few feet to a perch on the rocks and settled in as he came up to her, he let his hip fall against another rock and smiled breathlessly up at her.

She smiled brightly, “morning.”

He threw the cord of his earphones over the back of his neck and gently tugged on them, “didn’t expect to see you down here.”

She shrugged, “I saw you running, figured Barley could use a little exercise too….if we’re bothering you, we can go back—“

He put a hand up and laughed, “you’re not bothering me at all!”

Barley came running over to the two of them, a large wet stick in his mouth. The two of them looked at him for a moment, Tom laughed and grabbed one end the stick and Barley let him have it. Tom whipped the stick as far across the beach as he could, and Barley went barreling after it at full gallop. Shiloh laughed and Tom turned back to her.

“Do you usually come down here for walks? I haven’t seen you down here the last few mornings,” he said, leaning back against the rock.

She shrugged, “sometimes, not usually in the morning, I’m what you might call a…’late riser,’” she giggled.

He smiled, “well I’m flattered that you guys came down to see me this morning.”

She smirked at him, eyeing him for a moment, then she glanced back up at his cottage, which was barely visible over the hill from where they were perched on the boulders, “so you got a big delivery today,” she said with a giggle.

He sniggered softly, finally feeling his heart rate returning to normal. Barley came sprinting back to them with the stick again, and they both chuckled at the sight of him. Shiloh called him to her and he relinquished the stick once more, this time she threw it in the opposite direction, and towards the waves. The dog watched where it landed in the water, then raced away to fetch it. Tom watched him for a moment, then turned back to Shiloh, “my agent sent me a package of fan mail, which I have to sift through,” he couldn’t disguise his aversion to what he knew he had to do. He had enjoyed forgetting about that part of his life, even if it had only been for the week or so that he’d been on the island. Having that large bulking reminder sitting in the living room of the quaint cottage he had been happy to call home, placed an uneasy weight in his stomach.

“That’s a  _lot_  of fan mail,” she grinned.

Tom grinned back sardonically for a moment, but dropped the smirk quickly and Shiloh laughed at his feigned disdain. She covered her mouth as she giggled, and he couldn’t help but start to laugh along. She had her hair down again, it looked soft and wavy in the morning sun, and she nervously ran her hand through it as they laughed. She had another hooded sweatshirt on, sleeves rolled up, with jeans, and he couldn’t understand how she managed all those heavy clothes in this gorgeous weather. She reigned in her laughter, and took a deep breath, “I wanted to ask you something, Tom.”

Intrigued, Tom’s eyebrows rose, “sure, anything,” he said eagerly.

She smiled quickly, then her smile wavered, “I have to go on a short business trip to London this weekend, but I don’t like to take Barley on the shorter trips because he takes time to adjust, and it’s only for three days so it’s not really worth it to bring him…”

“You want me to watch him?”

She grinned, a twinkle in her eye, “you read my mind.”

He sniggered, “I doubt that,” they both chuckled.

“So is it okay?” she asked, worried.

He nodded, “I’d love to, will he be okay without you?”

She nodded, glancing back at the dog as he ran around in the gentle waves, “he’s very well behaved, and he likes you.”

Tom smirked, “he’s told you this?”

She smiled, “all he talked about last night, was you,” she laughed sarcastically.

He smiled and thought for a moment, “if I watch him for you, will you do something for me?”

Her left eyebrow rose quickly and she smirked again, “depends…”

“Will you help me go through that big box of fan mail?”

She laughed, surprised for a moment, then started to nod, “sure,” she snickered.

He laughed, relieved, “thank you.”

She nodded, and the two of them sat on the rock in silence for another moment. The breeze from the sea wafted over them, a fine mist from the waves and the slight scent of the salt billowing through the air. The sun was streaming through the minuscule clouds that were disappearing quickly on this beautiful morning, and it was a scene Tom hoped he could memorize and keep in his mind forever.

“So Richard mentioned something to me, when he was dropping off my mail,” he began, bringing himself out of the trance that the surrounding scenery seemed to always catch him in. He watched Barley frolicking in the water, playing with the stick.

Shiloh let out a groan and Tom turned to her, puzzled. She smirked at the confused look on his face, but she just shook her head, “I bet I know what about.”

He laughed, “oh?”

“The Burray Brawl?”

He smiled and cocked his head at her, “so it’s a real thing? It sounded…”

“Made up?” she smiled.

He chuckled louder, nodding, “I dunno, it does sound like a bit of fun.”  
She scoffed and laughed, looking away. He watched her for a second, then followed her gaze towards the horizon, watching the waves flowing towards and away from them, the light glinting off the water hypnotically.

After a moment, without looking at him, Shiloh said quietly, “the Brawl is alright if you’re into that kind of thing. If you want to get shit-faced and dance like an idiot for a few hours with a bunch of other drunken idiots,” she paused, thought about what she said, then chuckled softly to herself, “sorry,” she laughed, “there I go again.”

He smiled at her, “have you ever gone to it, the  _Brawl_?”

She shook her head quickly, “I went a few times, but I haven’t gone in a years.”

He watched her, she was still watching the waves, the dog barking at the moving water as if it might play with him as he frolicked. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she turned and their eyes connected, “would you go  _this_  year?” he asked.

A sideways smirk started at one corner of her mouth, “did  _you_  want to go?”

He shrugged, “I’m here, I might as well check it out, see what all the fuss is about.”

She giggled softly, her smile was infectious, “the  _fuss_ , is that there’s free liquor and people on the island love to drink.”

“So, is that a no?” he frowned.

She scrunched her brow at him and turned away with a smile, shaking her head as she looked back across the beach, then she sighed and looked back at him, focusing her eyes on his feet, “are you asking if I’ll go  _with_  you?” she almost sounded scared to ask the question.

She squirmed under his gaze for another moment before he smiled and nodded, “yes, who else would I want to go with?” he said without thinking, and saw her cheeks go red in the morning glow.

She suppressed a nervous giggle, choking it back and glancing back towards Barley, who was running back and forth with the waves, nipping at the water and barking, amusing himself. She watched the clouds float by, even though the sky was mostly clear, and Tom watched the sun bounce off the golden brown streaks in her hair. He watched her, studied her profile as she analyzed what he had said, another perfect scene he wanted to capture and keep as a snapshot within his mind.

“Well,” she said quietly, speaking towards the waves, “it’s the night before my trip…”

“We don’t have to stay long, I just want to see what it’s like.”

She glanced over at him and smiled, then shrugged, “sure, why not?”  
Tom smiled happily, the two of them grinning together like school children. He ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight against the boulder he was leaning on.

After another moment, Shiloh let out a long sigh, turned back towards him and glanced at him shyly, “I’ve never met anyone like you, Tom Hiddleston.” He smirked, but she remained stony-faced, then she added, “you’re definitely  _not_ what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

She smiled briefly and shrugged, “I’m not sure, but it certainly wasn’t you,” she chuckled once, tried to glance away again, but stopped herself, locking eyes with him again, “I don’t usually make friends, I’m sure you know why.” He smiled and nodded, but she looked like she had more to say, something in her brow, close to a scowl, told him that she wasn’t done, she had more to get out. She took another shaky breath and continued, “you’re so easy to talk to…so friendly and…non-judgmental.”

Now Tom furrowed his own eyebrows, “why would I judge you?”

She looked away again, but forced herself to answer him, even if she wasn’t able to make eye contact right away, “I’ve known people…they pretend to be your friend, but when things get too tough, or too real for them, they’re nowhere to be found. They’ve left you alone in their dust, like you’re some kind of leper, diseased and disgusting, something they don’t want to have anything to do with anymore.”

The pain and contempt in her voice sounded foreign to him, coming from her. He might not have known her for very long, but as long as he had known her, she had always been funny, sarcastic, with a wit he enjoyed, and a view of the world around her that she could smirk at. This sounded like the ramblings of someone who had been hurt too many times and had run away from all of it, and it pained him to think of her being mistreated like that, “Shiloh,” he started. She looked at him, her large eyes narrowed in the hurt of what she had just told him, but when she saw his face, the worry and the concern upon it, her features softened, and she let out a shaky sigh. He slowly reached out, the memory of her jerking her hand away from his when they were in the café clear in his mind as his fingers met the warm flesh of her arm. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t jump at his touch. She glanced down at his hand and then back up at his blue eyes that gleamed in the dazzling sunlight, “I’d be  _honored_  to be your friend.”

A small, hesitant smile began to creep up from beneath the bewildered look on her face. It blossomed into a full, glowing grin, and she put her other hand up over her mouth and stifled a giggle. He beamed back at her, gently digging his fingers into the soft skin of her arm.

“Tom,” she brought her hand down and her smile faded, watching him closely, “of _course_  you’re my friend! How could you  _not_  be? I mean,” she laughed, “I met you two days ago and you’ve already been to my house, you’re on a first-name basis with my guard dog, and I’m already hoping that we can stay in touch once your holiday is over…”

He felt like hugging her, but he knew that she would probably cringe at that amount of physical interaction. How she had managed to go to social functions in the past and interact with people, he wasn’t sure.  _Perhaps Phyllis was involved, did a little coaxing_ , he thought. He smiled at her sweetly, rubbed her arm gently and then relinquished her from his grip, “I meant what I said last night, Shiloh—“

“Call me  _Shi_ ,” she smirked.

It was in that moment that Tom thought of kissing her. In the back of his mind, he imagined reaching forward, across the warm boulder they were both perched on, placing his hands on either side of her face and slipping his fingers up into that wavy brown hair. He thought of pulling her face to his, leaning into her and her leaning into him, their lips connecting. He thought of her sudden surprise at the swift action, but her shock quickly turning into delight. Her own nervous fingers slowly crawling up his sides, up his arms, coming to rest upon his shoulder, or his neck, as his lips explored her own and she let out a tiny, soft moan of astonishment.

He pulled himself from that daydream as quickly as he could, smirking at her but hoping it didn’t look like some sort of mischievous leer. He nodded at her instruction, and tried to remember what he had been saying, he cleared his throat nervously, “you really are a wonderful person, and I’m so grateful to have spent this time with you…”

She started to laugh, he mentally thanked the heavens that she didn’t seem to have noticed his quick moment of daydreaming, “you said, last night, that I was ‘interesting,’ and ‘ _confusing_ ,’” she chuckled softly.

He smirked, “that’s not necessarily a  _bad_  thing.”

“The ‘ _confusing_ ’ part? How is it  _not_?” she continued to laugh more and more.

“I would be so bold as to say that the majority of the women on this planet, spend most of their  _lives_  confusing the  _men_  on this planet. Some of them don’t do it intentionally, Others, do…but you, you’re an enigma all your own. Just as you said that you’ve never known anyone like me,  _I’ve_  never met anyone like you, either.”

She blushed again, and Barley came trotting over with his stick, dropping it on the sand in front of them, and sitting on his haunches to watch them smile at each other.


	7. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Slight AU where Tom has three months off between filming Crimson Peak and High Rise) Tom decides to take a long holiday to unwind and refresh, and he goes to the remote Scottish Isles, specifically the small island of Burray, to do so. He enjoys the community, the quiet life, and the scenery, and is introduced to an inhabitant of the island he actually has heard of, a former famous author, Shiloh Winters, who removed herself from public life after a violent attack years ago. Over time, the two become friends and connect over similar views and experiences, and other things they have in common, and eventually, they fall in love. Will Tom and Shiloh be able to make their relationship work? Will Shiloh be able to deal with being thrust back into the public eye? What dangers from her dramatic past might be waiting for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where things begin to pick up, at the town's annual summer celebration, Tom and Shiloh have a moment, which blows up in their faces. Tom is determined not to let their friendship fall apart, despite her insecurities and anxieties, and he needs to prove to her exactly how he feels about her.

The next few days felt like a whirlwind to Tom, a blur of laughter and jokes, of gentle teasing and playfulness. He and Shiloh spent the majority of their time together in Shiloh’s cozy living room. They also took Barley for walks, and Shiloh would show him parts of the island that weren’t on any tourist brochure.

They went hiking up the hillside near the grassland where both their houses sat, and she showed him the view from the top. If he had thought her view of the island was breathtaking, he was dumbfounded when they reached the peak of that small mountain. The tops of the vividly green trees billowed in the wind as far as he could see. The sun bathed the far off rooftops of the town in a warm glow, the main road that led towards the town barely visible through the foliage. Shiloh pointed out towards the other end of the island, where Tom could almost make out what looked like another beach.

“That’s where the tourists go,” she told him, pointing out a large building that stood out amongst the smaller ones surrounding it, even from this distance. It was the island’s main hotel. He glanced down the mountainside at their two small cottages, sitting together in a sea of green, and the secluded beach that they were lucky enough to call their own.

“This is heaven,” he said, his voice carried by the wind, sending his words out, over the ocean, floating away into the sun.

She beamed back at him, squinting in the daylight, but smiling brightly, “it really is.”

They stood there, enjoying the view for another moment, Barley sniffing around the bushes behind them, and Tom was surprised to feel Shiloh’s hand gently graze his. He glanced down, she was standing right next to him, purposefully still looking out over the scene in front of them, but her fingers lingered, dangling dangerously close to his own. He smirked to himself, and reached his pinky finger out towards hers, snaking it around and linking them together. Only then, did she look down at their two hands, connected at the smallest of fingers, and then up at him, with a slightly scared, but charming smile across her lips.

She entwined the rest of her fingers into his, and their hands were linked like that as they walked. The top of the hill was relatively level, and Shiloh had asked to stay up there for a bit while she caught her breath. The hike up the hill had not been overly steep, but she had taken it slow, with Barley staying close to her while they went. Tom had kept a close eye on her as well, remembering how winded she had been after the short trek up the trail from the beach. She had made it to the top of the mountain, had taken a deep breath, and had smiled at him with such abundance, his heart had practically leapt into his throat.

Now, as they stood there, wandering around to see the view from other points on the hilltop, linked hand in hand, he watched her carefully and thought to himself, _how did we get to this point, so quickly? How has she – without even trying – spellbound me like this, taken control of my heart and consumed my every thought? Is this what ‘love at first sight’ feels like? Or am I getting ahead of myself? Maybe she doesn’t feel the way I do. What if she doesn’t? What if she does? What would happen then?_

She brought him out of his revere, by starting to giggle. He looked over at her with a suspicious grin, “what?” he asked.

She glanced at him and continued to chuckle, slowly shaking her head, “I was thinking about that drawing.”

He smirked as he remembered it. It had been a few days ago, when Shiloh had brought Barley and a bottle of wine over to his cottage. They had uncorked the wine, given Barley a new bone from the butcher, and had cracked open the box of fan mail that had been sitting untouched on Tom’s floor.

The majority of the letters were uplifting and kind. She would grab a stack and scan them quickly, reading aloud the parts that she found particularly important. He sifted through his own stack, attempting to make separate piles of letters that could be replied to with the agency’s form response and a preprinted photo; and those that he wanted to reply to personally. Shiloh made suggestions, pleading the case for a fan here and there; some she said were just writing ‘in hopes of getting a free autograph,’ while others she convinced him were truly genuine, and deserved an actual response.

“Imagine the look on their faces, when they see that it’s hand written,” she had said, beaming. When he told her that he usually typed his letters because it was quicker, she frowned, bemoaning that no one seemed to write  _real_  letters anymore.

They had had a fine evening, sorting the fan mail, going through the belated birthday gifts. Some had been handmade; several fans had sent him scarves of all different colors, some even hand knitted. It was touching, all the care and effort these people had put into their letters and gifts, but it confused him as well. For the first time since reaching this level of fame, it felt odd to him. Sure, when he had first realized he had fans –  _that_  had been something he had to get used to. When he had won the role of Loki, and it seemed like overnight he had became so popular with fans of the movie –  _that_  had been something he had needed time to wrap his head around.

He had become somewhat used to the idea of people being fans of his, wanting to know more about him, wanting to share their enthusiasm with him. It had become harder and harder, especially of late, to keep that air of anonymity that he had had before, when he’d been a student, or a ‘normal’ person. Seeing this huge box full of letters, of these gifts from people he’d never met, who seemed to know him, or _thought_  they did, he was partially accustomed to the idea, but still strangely surprised by it.

Shiloh had noticed his change in demeanor then, and they had discussed the absurdity of the ‘fan,’ and the conversation had been similar to the one they’d had at her home a few nights before. She’d gone into a bit more detail of interactions with her own fans, and some had reminded him of the various Comic-cons he had been to. She had given him some advice on how to take a step back from the fans who might be a little  _too_  excited, without looking like he was shunning or condemning the rest of the fan base.

He had been grateful for her advice, and intrigued by her wisdom, but she had quickly changed the subject back to the box of gifts, when she pulled out a hand drawn cartoon. His infamous character, Loki, had been drawn in an adorable style reminiscent of the ‘Hello Kitty’ brand. The cartoon had been a simple depiction of the little Loki zapping a tiny Thor with his scepter, a dialogue bubble over Loki’s head saying ‘I do what I want!’ She had found the drawing incredibly endearing and they had both giggled about it for quite some time, partly thanks to the wine.

Up on the hill, in the warmth of the sun, with the breeze lifting his hair and the feeling of Shiloh’s soft, tentative grip in his hand, Tom smiled intently back at her as she giggled. He imagined taking her hand, pulling her by the arm into an embrace, locking lips and holding her to him with his other arm. The feeling of her against him, her hands roaming over his muscles, the smell of her skin as he breathed her in, it was an intoxicating fantasy. He felt a twinge in his crotch, and he was horrified to realize he had the beginnings of a hard-on growing steadily inside his khakis. He tried his best to make it disappear, to think about  _anything_  other than the idea of kissing her, but he was thankful that at least the pants were loose-fitting. When they turned to head back down the trail, he volunteered to go ahead of her, affirming that if she fell, he would catch her.

By the time they reached the bottom of the hill and had started back towards their field, his boner had dissipated, and felt less cumbersome inside his pants. She walked next to him, Barley trotting along beside them, glancing back with a lolling smile as the three of them walked.

“So,” she started, running a hand over her hair, which she had tied back for the hike, “I have to ask…” he turned towards her as they walked, and she continued, “since the Brawl is tomorrow night…do you dance?”

He couldn’t contain his grin, and he stopped in mid-step in the middle of the trail. She stopped when she noticed that he had, and turned back to look at him, seeing his smile, and grinning herself.

“I  _love_  to dance,” he said cheerfully.

She smiled, “really?”

He nodded excitedly, “do you?”

She glanced around, they started walking again, Barley bounded through the grass chasing a butterfly. Shiloh walked next to Tom with her hands in the pockets of her jeans, “I used to,” she finally answered.

**~*~**

The evening of the Burray Brawl, Tom was bustling around the house trying to finish getting ready before heading down to the party. At Shiloh’s suggestion, he had opened his laptop, which he had been ignoring for the last several days, and posted a few images on his Twitter account. She had convinced him that his fans would want to know that he’s still active, since he’d been so talkative on the social site before, and it would excite them to see something new. He had argued, saying this was his time away from the insanity of that life, and that included staying off of Twitter, but she had finally persuaded him to just put up a few pictures, which would be quick enough to do. He had snapped a photo of his stack of J. G. Ballard books to act as a teaser for the  _High Rise_  film that was coming up when his holiday ended. He snickered to himself when he remembered telling Shiloh about the  _High Rise_  adaptation and finding out how big a fan of Ballard she was. Then he posted the stock photo he had taken while meeting with the producers of the new musical biopic he had just been signed on to take part in.

Finishing up on the computer, Tom got up off of the couch and went into the bedroom. He had picked out the best outfit he could find, he wasn’t sure how dressy this party would be. He put on his favorite dress pants, his lucky blue t-shirt, and threw his light dress jacket on over it. He checked his hair in the bathroom mirror, but there wasn’t much he could do to it that he hadn’t already done. He placed his hands on the bathroom sink, leaning in closer to the mirror, looking into his own eyes.

He stood there for a few minutes, looking into his own face, studying the lines of his features, trying not to think about anything in particular. He found himself thinking of Shiloh’s big brown eyes, as he looked into his own blue ones; her luscious full lips, as he gazed at his own thin ones; her long, wavy brown hair, as his eyes traveled up to look at his own teased blonde locks. He fought with himself for a moment, wrestling internally as he weighed his options.

He wanted to tell Shiloh how he felt, what he had been feeling, but he didn’t want to scare her. He could tell that their friendship already put her on edge, even though he knew that she was much more relaxed around him now than she had been when they first met. He was thankful for that, but he knew she was still wary, if only because of his celebrity status.  _That shouldn’t be an issue, if she liked him even a fraction of how he thought she did, his professional life should have no bearing on her decision,_  he thought. In the back of his mind though, he knew better, _this woman had been in my shoes, she’d been a celebrity, and as a result she almost lost her life, attacked by someone who had claimed to be a fan. That world was foreign to her now, and she’d made sure to keep it that way by escaping to this island, who was he to ask her to go back something that had almost killed her?_

Pulling himself from the mirror, Tom finished getting ready, put a bit of cologne on and slid his shoes on before walking out the door. He and Shiloh had decided to meet at the party, since Phyllis had asked her to come to her house before the party, to help her bring some refreshments. Phyllis had a way of talking to Shiloh, perhaps it was just from having known her for as long as she had, but the older woman could usually convince the shy, timid Shiloh to do whatever she asked of her.

As he drove down the main road, the sun had set and the sky was darkening, he noticed how empty the streets were. Seeing a large number of people walking towards where Richard had told him Flannery field was, Tom found himself imagining things. He imagined him and Shiloh dancing in the barn she had told him they use for the celebration, he imagined her beautiful smile as he spun her around, her clinging to him as they danced, his arms around her, holding her close. He was suddenly reminded of the embarrassing hard-on he’d gotten in the middle of their hike yesterday, and even now, alone in the car, he felt his face flush. This woman did things to him that he’d never felt before, and he wasn’t sure if she was even conscious of it. _It’s because she attracted you in a non-physical way first,_  he thought,  _she turned you on with her insight and her cleverness, then she turned you on with her smile and the way her hips sway when she walks._

Shaking himself loose of thoughts that caused him to blush, Tom followed the other cars that were pulling in to a part of the field that had been designated for parking. He didn’t recognize anyone when he climbed out of the car, but he glanced around at the darkened sky,  _at least it was a clear night for their party,_  he thought. He followed the crowd towards the barn, looking around at the setup that Phyllis and a handful of others had put together.

The barn was one of the largest Tom had ever seen, it looked to be well over three stories tall. The immense front doors had been propped open, and a rainbow of multi-colored lights were flashing from inside, onto the well-worn grass. There, they had parked several trucks in a semi-circle, and already over a dozen people were swarming around the vehicles with drinks in their hands. Tom assumed that this was where people went when they wanted to get away from the party inside,  _whether it was alone, or with another person to find some privacy_ , he smirked to himself.

He wandered towards the barn, hands in his pockets, looking around for a familiar face. He had been about to reach the barn doors, when he suddenly heard someone calling his name. He looked around, and saw both Phyllis and Shiloh, near one of the trucks parked closest to the barn door, waving to him.

“Hello!” Phyllis called to him as he neared them. She and Shiloh were standing near Richard’s jeep, as the rest of the crowd had started shuffling in to the barn. As he got closer, he was finally able to see the anxious look on Shiloh’s face. He saw her eyeing the crowd, and he wanted to run to her, put his arms around her, and comfort her. Instead, he greeted Phyllis, waved hello to Shiloh, and leaned against the jeep between the two of them.

“Aren’t we going in?” he asked after a few moments of silence, the three of them just sat there watching the people.

Phyllis turned to him and smiled, “I’m waiting for Molly, she and Billy are running a bit late.”

“Is Richard inside?” he asked.

Phyllis shook her head, “he’s around back, checking on the generator with Angus and Langdon.”

Tom nodded, then turned to look at Shiloh, who was staring off into the distance anxiously, “how are you doing?” he asked as he shuffled closer to her. She turned to him and tried to smile, but it didn’t work, it looked more like a grimace, and she shrugged. He smirked, trying to lighten her mood, “ _that good,_  huh?” She smirked and glanced away again.

He took a chance, stretched his arm out, and cautiously placed it around her shoulders. She turned to look at him, but she didn’t jump away, she just looked into his eyes. He smiled down at her, she looked lovely in a simple pink dress, fiddling with the sleeves that went past her elbows, and with the strap of the spaghetti-string purse hanging from her shoulder. She absentmindedly played with the collar near her neck, trying to pull it up, and he realized that this was the loveliest she hadd ever looked to him.

“You look ravishing,” he said quietly, so only she could hear him. She narrowed her eyes at him and he started to giggle, “what?” he asked cheerily.

She shook her head and turned away, unsuccessfully hiding a smirk, “trying to be all charming…” she trailed off.

“I’m sorry?” he asked playfully.

She turned back to him, hugging herself and rubbing her arms, “it’s your fault I’m even  _here_ ,” she said menacingly. He could see she was nervous, she continued to fidget, even if she had allowed him to put his arm around her.

His wicked smile faded and he held her closer, “are you cold? Do you want to go inside?”

She looked reproachful, but Phyllis had overheard him, and leaned towards the two of them, “Tom, why don’t you take Shiloh and go get yourselves something to drink?” she asked cheerily.

Shiloh wanted to protest, but Tom took her by the hand and began to lead her towards the barn. He realized that this was the very  _last_  place that someone with a social anxiety like Shiloh’s would want to go, and he suddenly felt like a jerk for badgering her into going with him. He kept a tight grip on her hand, but she didn’t fight him, as he led them through the crowd. The barn was packed with people, but the majority of them had already gotten their drinks from the makeshift bar and were mingling together around the dance floor.

They came up to the bar where a young man was handing out drinks, and Tom ordered them two shots. He turned back to the quivering Shiloh, and handed her one of the shot glasses. She downed it without waiting for him, then slammed it down on the bar and asked for another.

Tom drank his shot, but didn’t want another, “do you want to go?” he asked, watching her quickly take the second drink.

She gasped from the harsh vodka and smirked wildly at him, “ _you_  got in me here, _you_  wanted to dance,” she sounded out of breath, and he hoped she wasn’t about to have a panic attack. She looked pale, she was still trembling, and she couldn’t catch her breath. He brought her away from the bar, towards a mostly-empty wall, where they could at least get away from the crowd. She leaned against it, not worrying about her nice dress against the dirty wood, and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Shi,” he had to yell now because the music had started playing, some kind of classic disco song, he barely heard it, “I shouldn’t have asked you to come, I didn’t realize it would be like this.”

She looked at him, in the colorful lights of the party, he could only see the whites of her eyes for a moment. Then, she was closer to him, closer than ever before. She was leaning into him, her trembling arms reaching out for him. Her trembling fingers grabbed at his jacket, took a fistful of his shirt, and pulled him into her and their bodies connected. She ran a hand up the side of his neck, sliding her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, sending goose bumps down his body. She pulled his face down to meet hers and kissed him. Her full lips connected with his, she quivered against him and sucked air in sharply, holding his face in her hands. His own hands lingered on her waist for a moment, but just as he had begun to realize that this was actually happening, it wasn’t one of his daydreams, Shiloh quickly pulled back from him, yanking her lips from his.

She stared at him, eyes wide, one hand going to her mouth. She gaped for a moment, then she was gone. Tom barely had time to turn around before he saw her disappear through the dancing, carousing crowd. He went after her, but she was already out through the big barn doors before he had struggled through the onslaught of people.

Once he’d made it outside, the crowd was thinner, most of the village was inside partying. He looked around for a moment, then saw Shiloh’s retreating figure beyond the circle of trucks that surrounded the barn entrance.

“Shiloh!” he called after her. She glanced back over her shoulder, but she continued on through the field of parked cars, back up towards the road.

He jogged after her, thankful for the bright moonlight so he could see her in the still darkness. He finally caught up to her as they reached the side of the road, and he came up behind her and grabbed one of her arms. She spun around and pushed him back, yanking her arm free and pounding him once in the shoulder. He put his hands up, she had tears streaming down her cheeks, and her chest was heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

“Shiloh, where are you going?” he asked, still holding his hands up to her, trying to calm her. She started to step backwards along the side of the road, one hand out to keep him at bay, the other covering her mouth as she started to cry harder. “What’s wrong?” he asked desperately.

She shook her head, unable to speak right away. After a moment, she wiped some of the tears from her eyes, and was able to take a short breath. Still shaking her head and crying, she managed, “it’s… _ruined_!”

He tried to smile reassuringly, but he frantically wanted to get her off of the side of the road, in case any on-coming traffic didn’t see them right away, “nothing’s ruined,” he said calmly, with a wavering laugh.

She dropped her hand and scowled at him, “I’m going home,” she turned on her heel and started to walk, her head dipped as she cried and wiped tears from her eyes. He followed her, and it was another moment before she glanced back and noticed him behind her, “go back, Tom!” she called back to him.

“I’m not leaving you out here, it’s ten miles back to your house. Are you going to walk ten miles? In  _those_  shoes?” he motioned to her heels, which didn’t look very comfortable.

She stopped suddenly and whipped around on him again, this time her tears fell in frustration, “you wanted me to come to this fucking thing! You  _know_  damn well that I do  _not_  like crowds like this! What did you expect to happen?” He wanted to say that he definitely hadn’t expected her to kiss him, but he knew that would be a low blow. Instead, he just watched her, she let out another sob and started to turn away again, but stopped. She looked back at him, “don’t worry about Barley tomorrow, I’ll take him with me.”

She started to walk again, and Tom caught up to her and matched her stride, walking on her side to shield her from any traffic. She tried to hurry her steps and out-distance him, but his legs were too long, and her breath was too short at that moment. Finally, she stopped, slapping him in the arm with her spaghetti-string purse, “go back to the party,” she said. Her voice shaky from crying, “find a normal girl to dance with, there’s tons of them in there.”

“I don’t want to dance with a  _normal_  girl, Shiloh, I only wanted to dance with you. I am sorry I asked you to come, I didn’t realize the effect it would have on you.”

She narrowed her reddened eyes at him, “why?”

His brow furrowed, “why what?”

“Why would you want to dance with me? Why would you want to have anything to do with me?”

He let out a laugh, mostly from surprise, “are you kidding? You’re incredible! How could I not want to be with you?” Her face changed, as if she was thinking of their hastened kiss inside the barn, and she looked mortified. She stepped away from him, starting to walk, and he hurried to catch up to her again. “Shiloh, wait,” he begged, but she started to shake her head. He continued after her, “ _please_ ,” he begged.

She threw up her arms in frustration as she walked, “you could do so much better, you could have any woman you want,” she bellowed into the empty darkness around them as they walked, “you don’t want to get involved with a damaged recluse who’s a decade older than you!”

He caught her hand as she swung it, and she stopped at his touch. He gently pulled her back towards him. She looked down at the ground as she faced him. He put his hands on her cheeks, gently pulling her face up to look at him. She was still crying, the tears leaving streaks in her mascara, her bottom lip looked raw from her nervously chewing on it. He smiled softly at her, “I don’t want  _anyone_  else,” he said quietly. She looked at him, pain in her eyes, confusion on her face, putting her hands on his chest, “you are perfect,” he continued. “You’re not  _damaged_ , you’re not a  _recluse_ …you have trauma and heartache, but you’re very well adjusted for what you’ve been through.”

He saw a tentative smirk through her tears, and she looked up at him, he still held her face in his hands. She put her hands on his, and slowly pulled his fingers from her skin. She lowered both their hands, and took a step back from him, all the while staring into his bright blue, concerned eyes. She stepped back, took a deep breath, and tried to smile, “you’re an amazing person, Tom,” she said quietly. Then she turned and started back towards the darkness of the town beyond. He watched her go, unsure of what to do,  _should he race back and find Phyllis or Richard? He couldn’t let Shiloh walk all that way on her own, at this time of night._

He followed her for a few minutes, she stepped out of her heels and carried them in one hand. They walked like that for a couple of blocks as they made their way down to Main street. She stopped on the pavement, he knew that she knew he was behind her, watching her, but she didn’t look back at him. Instead, she watched the slow traffic for a few minutes, before an unmarked car with a brightly lit ‘Taxi’ sign on the roof pulled up and stopped for her. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, before climbing in to the back seat of the car and closing the door.

He didn’t go back to the party. He had walked solemnly back to the field where the cars were parked, and took his time finding the rental car. From across the field the barn was hopping with music, light, and yells of merriment from the huge crowd that was spilling out from its large doors. The partygoers were still dancing, drinking, and having a grand time, even if there wasn’t enough room for all of them in the oversized barn.

Tom drove in silence, making his way slowly up the hill towards his cottage. He pulled into the driveway, turned off the car, and got out. The small light on the outside of his cottage glowed brightly just above the front door, as he fished his house keys out of his pocket. Without thinking too much about it, he took a few steps from the driveway and onto the grass, so he could see around the corner of the cottage and see Shiloh’s house. The tiny home was lit, he couldn’t tell what room she was in, but he could see that the living room light was on. He wondered if she was reading, or maybe watching TV, or if she was crying uncontrollably and Barley was trying to comfort her.

He went inside, dropping his clothes as he walked towards his room. He didn’t bother with his sleep clothes, he just fell into the bed in his briefs and drew the blanket up around him. He tossed for what felt like hours, before finally drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

**~*~**  
  
When he woke with a start the following morning, he sat straight up in bed and looked around wildly for a clock. The sun was just starting to rise as he glanced out the bedroom window. He cursed loudly while he scrambled to find his phone, finally locating it inside the pocket of the pants he had dropped to the floor. It was a few minutes before seven,  _Shiloh would be getting on the ferry soon to leave for the mainland_ , he thought frantically. He struggled to pull the dress pants back on, picked up the t-shirt that was on the floor near them, and threw that over his head as he raced towards the front door. He pulled the car keys out of the pants pocket, and jogged to the vehicle after slamming the front door behind him.

He sped down the road towards town as fast as he could, thankful that most of the town was still asleep, nursing their probable hangovers from the festivities of the night before. He turned in to the ferry parking lot, parked quickly, hopped out of the car, and ran up towards the dock.

There was a small crowd of people waiting for the ferry, which was off in the distance, slowly approaching the docks. Tom scanned the crowd quickly and recognized Shiloh, dressed in a long trench coat, holding a rolling suitcase on one side, and a leashed Barley on the other. Barley saw him running up the dock towards them before anyone else in the crowd did, and Shiloh turned just in time to see him come running to a stop. Tom bent down, trying to catch his breath as quickly as he could, and the rest of the crowd murmured quietly and stepped away from Shiloh, closer to where the ferry would soon be connecting.

“Tom? What are you doing here?” her voice was rough, she sounded like she’d been crying well into the night, and she wore a pair of dark, oversized sunglasses that were probably hiding red, sore eyes.

He stood upright, and stepped closer to her, Barley stared up at them both, his tongue lolling to one side as he panted, “I couldn’t let you leave like this,” Tom said softly.

Shiloh tried to smirk, but even behind the sunglasses, he could see her false smile waver, “I’ll be back in three days, it’s not like I’m  _leaving_.”

He put his hands on her arms, holding her closer, “I need you to know,” he said quietly, as if anyone was trying to listen. The rest of the travelers were still waking up, too tired in this early morning hour to care about Shiloh and Tom’s drama, “I couldn’t let you leave without telling you.”

She reached up and slowly pulled her sunglasses from her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, like he had imagined, and she looked up at him, worried, “tell me what?”

Suddenly he was at a loss for words. He had so much he wanted to say to her, but the thoughts whizzed through his brain so quickly he couldn’t choose which one to say first. He stumbled for a moment over his own tongue, then he caught one of those hurtling ideas and latched on to it, then gripped her tighter, “do you know what my first thought was, when I saw you sitting on the beach that day, at Billy’s party?” She scrunched her eyebrows together and shook her head, confused, a little scared. “I thought to myself,  _she looks lonely, and a little sad….but I bet the sky breaks open and the heavens sing when she smiles_.”

She gaped at him, “no you didn’t,” she said, disbelieving.

He laughed and nodded, “yes, I did. I was so nervous walking over to meet you. I’ve never felt that nervous in my whole life!”

She let out a quick laugh, then scowled at him, “so what? What does that mean? I make you nervous? Welcome to my world,” she said sarcastically.

He shook his head, “you make me feel things I’ve  _never_  felt before. You challenge me, you make me laugh, you’re witty and intelligent, you’re interesting and thoughtful, you share my love of literature, you have so many amusing quirks about you –“

She put a hand up between them, cutting him off, “that’s all wonderful, Tom,” she smiled, “it really is, but none of that is a good argument for us to start dating.” When he looked despairingly, she continued, “we live in two  _completely_  different worlds, Tom. You have an incredible life to get back to, when you go back to work, but I’m not a part of that world anymore. I  _can’t_  be,” she motioned back towards the ferry as it began to dock, “that’s exactly what I’m heading to London to tell my agent, since he won’t leave me alone about it.”

Tom stumbled on his words again, then started, “I wasn’t listing reasons for us to date, Shiloh,” he said calmly, still holding her close, “I was telling you reasons that I’ve fallen _in love_  with you.”

Her eyes went wide and she almost dropped the sunglasses she was holding. She gawked at him, “what?” she asked in disbelief. He smiled wide, nodding, but she shook her head, “we’ve known each other barely three weeks, Tom, and you say you’re  _in love_  with me?”

“It only takes a moment,” he whispered. He linked a finger under her chin and pulled her jaw up to meet his own. She didn’t fight him, instead, her hands crept up his shoulders slowly. He deepened his kiss and delved his tongue inside her mouth, exploring it eagerly. She moaned softly and leaned into him, pulling him into her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She’d dropped Barley’s leash, but the dog sat there watching them with a happy grin on his furry face, a few members of the crowd glanced back at them as the ferry began to board.

Tom and Shiloh pulled apart after a moment, he leaned his forehead down against her own as she looked up at him, breathless, “are you sure?” she asked, and he nodded with a smile. She begrudgingly pulled her face from his and glanced back at the boarding ferry boat. She didn’t have long, she looked back at Tom, who just nodded. They pulled their bodies apart, and Tom bent down and picked up Barley’s leash. He lookped the end around his wrist, and took Shiloh’s free hand in his own.  
“I’ll see you when you come back,” he said happily.

She smiled, and shakily started to put her sunglasses back on. He picked up her suitcase and followed her to the ramp of the ferry. She turned and took the handle of the bag, and with one last smile at him, she said, “I’ll call you tonight?”

He nodded, and she stepped backwards, onto the ferry, and the gate was closed after her. Tom stood on the dock with Barley sitting at his side, as the ferry pulled away, and Shiloh watched him with a broad smile. He put up a hand to wave as she drifted out of view, and when the ferry was too far to see anyone on it, he turned with Barley and headed back to his car.


	8. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Shiloh is away on a short business trip, Tom does his best to deal with his new-found feelings. He keeps in touch, and tries to surprise her when she comes back, but not everything goes as planned and the two of them end up having an interesting night, in which they get to know each other even more, and realize how much they really mean to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok just a warning, there's no smut just yet, but it's coming, I can't help it, it's how my stories go....

Tom and Barley got back to his house fifteen minutes later, and when he opened the front door and let Barley trot inside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, vaguely chuckling to himself that he was still wearing the pants and t-shirt from the party last night. He unlocked the screen of his phone and saw that Shiloh had texted him. He glanced out the kitchen window, looking out towards the water, _she’s still on the ferry,_  he thought.

He clicked on the text with his thumb to see what she’d written;

_Thank you for taking Barley._

He was about to respond when she sent another text;

_Did I say I love you too? I can’t remember if I did….but I do_

He smiled wide, leaning against the kitchen counter as he typed a response;

_No, you didn’t say it, but you did now…and you don’t have to thank me for watching Barley, it’s no problem at all. Tell me what brand of food he eats and I’ll go get some from the market._

There was a brief moment with no response, even though his phone told him that she in the process of typing. He felt his heart starting to race, excited, and a bit apprehensive, of what she would say.

_You don’t have to go to the market. My extra key is under that little gnome in my front garden._

He snickered to himself as he typed;

_You don’t mind me going in, without you?_

Another moment went by as she typed, then:

_Tom, you just declared your love for me on the dock in front of a bunch of people, and you spent all last night trying to make sure I was ok after the fiasco at the party, I think you going into my house to get dog food is more than ok ;)_

The winking smiley face made him giggle as he imagined her winking at him like that, with a smile so wide it stretched from ear to ear. He typed;

_Ok, I’ll head over and let you know when I get inside, how long is your ferry ride?_

She responded after a minute;

_This one takes a while, then I’m flying to London._

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and called Barley over to him. He unhooked the cumbersome leash from the dog’s collar. Barley was too well-trained to need that anymore, and the walk to Shiloh’s house was one they both knew very well.

Shiloh had warned him on the first day they’d met that the fields between their two houses were a bit treacherous, and she had been right. A week or so into their blossoming friendship, she had taken him the “short way” from her house, to his rental home, and it had been exactly that; treacherous. There were holes in the uneven ground that were hidden by the tall grass, that could easily twist or break any unsuspecting ankle. Even if you knew where to step, some days the ground was so muddy and water-logged, that you might sink several inches and either lose a shoe, or get stuck. They had only gotten less than half way then, when they had both decided to turn around and go back to her house, and she had made him promise to stick to the “beach route,” as she called it.

He opened his front door and Barley bounded out, jumping around happily, as if he expected this was a special play time with just him and Tom. Tom had grown fond of the dog, he was indeed very well trained; he knew the basic tricks that most people taught their dogs, but he knew more important commands as well. He knew when Shiloh wasn’t feeling well, if she couldn’t catch her breath, or if she was over-anxious The dog could sense these things, and would stay by her side until she reassured him everything was okay. That was something Tom couldn’t get over, how devoted and concerned the dog was.

Shiloh had explained that when she moved from the states to London, her family had insisted she get some sort of protection. She had been thinking of moving to somewhere more remote, at that time, and figured a dog would be the best form of protection, because it could provide companionship as well. She had found Barley through a service that trained dogs for specific needs; some for disabled people, some for the police. She had paid a great deal to make sure Barley was well trained, but also friendly and a good pet. She had gotten both of those important attributes out of this dog, and the two of them had been inseparable for over ten years.

Now, the dog was getting older, but he still had the energy of a puppy on most days. He was a pampered pooch, and Tom couldn’t help but love him as he had gotten to know both him and Shiloh.

They walked down the trail towards the beach, and started to cross the sand as the sun began to rise higher and higher in the sky. _It’s a good day for travel_ , he thought, thinking of Shiloh on the ferry, and later when she’d be on the plane. Barley pounced happily through the small waves,  _probably looking for the stick he had been playing with the last few days_ , Tom snickered. They neared the trail that led through the thicket of trees and up towards Shiloh’s house, and Barley stayed close to Tom as they made the trek. Tom smirked as he glanced down at the dog, and saw him watching him, making sure he was alright as they walked, “good boy, Barley,” he said to the dog.

When they got to the top of the hill and came out of the trees, the two of them walked through the grass to Shiloh’s front door, and Tom leaned down to pick up the small garden gnome, finding an extra key underneath it, just as Shiloh had said.

He unlocked the door and Barley hustled inside. Tom closed the door behind them and looked around the house; it felt so odd to be in here without Shiloh. It wasn’t necessarily that he felt like he was invading her privacy, it was more that she was such a part of this house, that having her be away from it, it felt like an architectural structure was missing from within the walls. It was as if a support beam was temporarily on a business trip and the house might collapse at any moment, until the beam came back and began to support the roof once again.

He brought out his phone and texted Shiloh again;

_We’re here. Where do you keep his food? What else does he need for a few days?_

After a moment, while Tom wandered slowly around the living room, eyeing the books on her shelves, glancing over at the amusing salt and pepper shaker collections, she responded;

_Bag of food is at the bottom of the pantry, there’s also a bag of bones from the butcher in the fridge, he loves those. If you tell him to go find his toys, he will bring a few of them out to you._

He smirked again, then typed;

_Does he need his dog bed, or any medications?_

The phone told him that she was typing, then;

_He’s fine without the dog bed, he hardly ever sleeps in it anyway. No meds, make sure you do get some of his toys though, so he doesn’t get too bored._

Tom chuckled, and looked over at the dog, “Barley,” he called, and the dog turned and came over to him. He sat down and looked up at Tom expectantly, “go get your toys,” Tom said with a smile.

The dog quickly got up, turned, and trotted down the hallway towards Shiloh’s office. Tom went into the kitchen, pulled the bag of dog food from the pantry, and the bag of bones from the fridge. He pulled a plastic shopping bag out from the cupboard underneath the sink, knowing that was where she kept them from when they had gone grocery shopping together a few days ago. He put the food and bones in the bag, then went back out to the living room. Barley had brought several toys out and laid them on the floor of the living room, and was sitting in front of the pile, looking proud. Tom smirked at him, and put the toys in the bag as well.

He glanced back at her book shelves, brought out his phone again, and texted her one more thing;

_Would you mind if I borrowed a book or two?_

There wasn’t a long wait before she replied;

_Go ahead, take any you’d like. I’ll call you later tonight, ok?_

He typed quickly;

_You sure you’re ok travelling by yourself?_

She responded just as quickly;

_I’m fine, Tom :) I’m meeting my sister at the airport, and I took a Xanax before I left, to calm me down._

He sighed;

_Alright, call me when you get a chance, have a good trip._

Tom spent the rest of the day mulling around his cottage. He couldn’t help but revisit the events of the night before, over and over again in his head, but he did his best to tell himself that he had done and said the right things. He wondered what Shiloh was doing, what she was thinking about, who she as talking to, if she had mentioned him to anyone.

When the evening finally rolled around, Tom gave Barley his dinner in the kitchen, then set about making his own meal. He roasted some potatoes, chopped up a bit of chicken, and when he was finally finished, he came into the living room with a full plate, and sat down on the couch. He turned on the TV, flipping to the news channel, and turned on his laptop to see if he’d gotten any emails, while he ate with his other hand.

Just after nine, when he and Barley had both finished eating, and were watching an old black and white movie while they lounged together on the couch, Tom’s phone buzzed. What he had expected to be another text, was surprisingly an actual phone call, he quickly answered the call and put the phone to his ear.

“How are you?” he blurted out.

He heard Shiloh sigh on the other end of the line, “exhausted, my publisher is an asshole. How are you?”

He smiled to himself, “bored, without you.”

She chuckled, he could hear the fatigue in her voice, “I’ve been on the go all day, wish I was home and could sleep in my own bed, but all I’ve got is this damn hotel room.”

“What about your family?”

“My sister Peyton is here with me, she went down to get some ice and check out the pool. My parents are coming in tomorrow and we’re all going to get together, but I’ve still got more meetings to do before I can actually see them,” she groaned, annoyed.

“I’m sorry love, hopefully your meetings will go by fast.”

“How was your night? How’s Barley doing?”

Tom chuckled, “we’re just watching the telley, he’s been really great.”

“Good.”

“So what’s your schedule like tomorrow? Will you have time to call?”

She sighed again, was quiet for a moment, he assumed she was checking her appointment book or her iPod, “I’ve got meetings until noon, then the folks get in and we’re all supposed to have lunch and go see some sights. I don’t know when we’ll be done, but I can text you when I have a better idea and hopefully I’ll be able to call you later on.”

“And what about your last day?”

Her voice sounded a little more chipper, “no meetings then, thankfully, just hanging out with the folks, leaving on the late flight, catching the last ferry to the island, I’ll probably be in right as it’s getting dark, but I’ll text you, ok?”

“That’s fine, what’s the weather like?” he silently kicked himself for bringing up the weather,  _how big of an idiot are you?_  He asked himself.

She chuckled, “it sounds like it’s going to be nice here for the next few days,” he could hear the smile in her voice again, she cleared her throat and changed the subject, “I almost forgot to tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

She took a deep breath, “my agent asked me about you today.”

“What?”

“He asked if I had heard anything about a celebrity coming to one of the Orkneys.”

“How did he know? What did you say?”

“I dunno how he knew, he just said he’d heard it somewhere. He didn’t know which island. I told him I hadn’t heard of anyone on  _my_  island, but I’m not sure if he believed me.”

Tom sighed, running his hand through his hair.  _How could anyone have found out where he’d gone? Luke was the only one who knew, other than a couple close friends and his family._  It suddenly felt like the sanctity and seclusion that the island had provided him for the last few weeks was crashing down around him, and the craziness of the world he’d left behind was coming after him, chasing him down.

He took a deep breath, sighed slowly, then tried to sound less upset than he felt, “let’s not worry about that now, alright hun? Let’s get past your trip, get you back home, and take it one day at a time, ok?”

She laughed hesitantly, “Okay. Are you doing anything tonight?” she sounded eager to change the subject again.

He smirked, “just getting ready for bed.”

“Hope you have a good night, tell Barley I miss him.”

“Sure thing…hey Shi, can I ask you something?”

She paused; he could hear her breathing, then, “of course, Tom.”

He took a breath to try and formulate his words, “I don’t want to push you, or scare you off, or rush you before you’re ready…”

“Tom,” she giggled nervously, “it’s fine, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to ask…if it comes down to it, and you and I…..you know…”

“Get serious?” the worry in her voice was palpable, it hurt him to hear her so apprehensive.

“Yes….if we do, would you consider…moving?”

She was silent for a few moments before letting out a quick sigh, “to London?”

“Yes.”

She was quiet again, and then laughed anxiously, “I would have to think about it, Tom…I mean, I’ve lived on that island for over a decade, it’s my  _home_.”

“I know it is, and I love it here too, but…I want to be with  _you_ …too…”

“I want that too,” she said, he could hear the smile on her lips again, he was grateful to hear it, and it was contagious.

They said their good-nights. Shiloh promised to text him during her meetings because she assured him that they would be boring. He told her he missed her, which he did immensely, and she asked him to give Barley a big hug for her. Tom hung up the phone and cleared his left over meal into the rubbish bin. Barley followed him into the bedroom and waited patiently as he changed. He was about to crawl under the covers when he looked back at the waiting dog and snickered, “come on, ol’ boy,” and the dog eagerly jumped up onto the bed, and curled up near the bottom corner.

**~*~**

The next day went horribly slow for Tom. He took Barley for a run along the beach, hoping to clear his head and get a grip on the emotions he’d been feeling since the Burray Brawl. Barley looked to be having a great time running alongside Tom on the beach. He seemed to think that he and Tom were racing, but Tom also suspected that the dog was just excited to be running with someone, since Shiloh was never able to run like this because of her condition.

They went back to Shiloh’s house, Tom partly felt like he was being a nosey neighbor, but he wanted to return the Matthea Harvey book she had given him after their dinner, and also to see if she had any others he might be interested in. The previous day, while texting Shiloh, he had chosen a book by an author named Chuck Palahniuk, called  _Invisible Monsters_ , and had gotten sucked into it quickly. He grabbed her copy of Edwin Arlington Robinson’s poems, then locked up and he and Barley walked back to his place.

He tried to go downtown and see Phyllis, to take his mind off things, but the town didn’t feel the same anymore. It still was full of its old rustic charm, and the quaint shops and cafés were still as cute and unique as ever, but even as he sat at Phyllis’ counter with a cup of ice cream, and Barley sat at the floor with a biscuit Phyllis had ready for him, Tom felt like everything was different now, and the only thing that could make it feel right again, was to have Shiloh by his side.

Via texts, she had kept him up to date about her itinerary in London; the meetings she hated being subjected to, and how annoying her publishers and agents were being. She told him that her family said “hi,” to him, and that they couldn’t wait to meet him. On her last day in the city, she texted him when she would be getting on the plane, and the expected time she would be getting back to the island.

Tom had decided to do something special for her, for when she got home, and after he went downtown and found the supplies he needed, he and Barley made their way over to Shiloh’s house and set about setting up the surprise.

**~*~**

Shiloh stepped off the ferry in the fading light and was finally able to take a deep breath. The few other passengers who disembarked with her all walked towards the parking lot. She followed slowly, the fatigue of travelling finally catching up with her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she climbed into her car and turned on the engine. She smirked when she saw that it was a text from Tom.

_How are you?_

She sat in the driver’s seat and smiled down at her phone.  _He probably has no idea how much his calls and texts helped me, during this trip_ , she thought to herself. She typed him a quick reply;

_Tired, smell like plane, and I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. So glad to be done with agents and publishers, how was your day?_

She sent the text, then pulled out of the parking lot with the phone lying on the passenger seat. It buzzed and she saw that there was a new message, but with the sky turning dark, even without a lot of traffic, she didn’t trust answering the text while driving. She turned onto the main road and drove in a fog, operating on autopilot. She smiled to herself as she thought about the surprise she had gotten Tom while shopping with her sister. _It’ll be strange to be in the house without Barley for the night,_  she thought as she pulled into her driveway. The lights were off at Tom’s cottage, she imagined him lying in bed with his phone next to him, waiting for her to reply to his message before falling asleep, and she grinned again.

She picked up her phone, reading his reply;

_Long, without you…_

She laughed and put a hand to her mouth, as she walked up to the door she couldn’t stop from grinning,  _what was she getting into?_  She smiled to herself.

At the door, before she could slip her key into the lock, she noticed two things. The first of which she hadn’t noticed when pulling into the driveway – most likely because she had been tired, daydreaming most of the drive – was that the lights were on inside the house.  _Had Tom left Barley here for her to come home to, and left the lights on for the dog?_  She wondered. Then she noticed something stuck to the front door. As she neared, she realized it was a piece of paper, and when she pulled it off the door and opened it, she was relieved to see it was a note. Scrawled in Tom’s chicken-scratch handwriting;

_Darling,_   
_I made you a hot cup of tea to come home to, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. It’s waiting in the kitchen for you, it should still be hot – come in, take off your coat and take a breath, you’re home! Barley and I have missed you._   
_Love, Tom._

She opened the door and closed it behind her with a grin plastered to her face. She leaned her back against the door for a moment and looked around. The small lamp in the living room was on, basking the room in a soft orange glow. She put her luggage down on the floor by the door, there was nothing in there she needed tonight. She took off her jacket, hung it on the hook by the door, and walked towards the kitchen.

The kitchen light was on, but it was empty. The tea kettle sat on the stove top, and a teacup was on the counter next to it, placed neatly on a cloth napkin. She smirked to herself and looked at the box of tea that sat next to it,  _Evening Brew_ , it was labeled. She picked the cup up and took a sip, it was still hot, she blew on it as she leaned against the counter, and then she noticed another folded note, sitting on the counter next to the box of tea. She put the cup down and picked up the note;

_I hope you like the tea, sweetheart._   
_I have one more surprise for you, when you’ve had enough to drink, and you feel relaxed and calm, please come out into the dining room._

She scrunched her eyebrows and re-read the note,  _‘come out into the dining room,’_   _he had written,_  she read it again,  _why did he write it like that?_  She took another sip of tea without thinking about it, then put the cup and note on the counter, and stepped through the dining room door.

When she opened the door to her sparse dining room, it took her a moment to figure out what she was looking at. The room itself was dark, the light was off, and it was empty. It was the scene beyond, on the other side of the full-length windows that had surprised her. She walked around the table, her eyes focused on what she was looking at. She pulled the glass door open and stepped out onto the back porch.

Tom was standing across from her, leaning against the railing, smiling at her. The porch had been completely covered in strings of white lights. They were wrapped around the railing, they were hung up around the doorway, and somehow he had strung a few lengths of them from the side of the house and draped them down over the entire porch – it looked like a galaxy of starlight encapsulated inside a tiny bubble around her back deck.

“Tom?” was all she could manage as she looked around. She covered her mouth in amazement, Tom stepped forward, neared her slowly, she couldn’t look away from all the beautiful lights, until there he was, inches from her, beaming down at her with that gorgeous smile of his. She looked up at him, seeing the thousands of lights reflected in his eyes.

Against the night sky the scene was blindingly beautiful. He leaned close and put his forehead against hers, his hands creeping up around her waist, “what is this?” was all she could think to ask.

He smiled wider as he leaned down, pulling her close, “I just wanted to make you smile,” he said low, and she laughed, she reached her arms up and circled them around his neck and shoulders. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her against him, lifting her feet slightly off the ground as he pulled her into him. Their lips connected and a soft sigh escaped her throat as he held her to him. She ran her fingers through his hair, inhaling the smell of his skin and the aftershave he wore, the feeling of his arms around her sent lightning bolts through her entire body.

When they came apart, she was short of breath, she smiled dazedly up at him and looked around at the lights, “this is…” she was at a loss for words.

He smirked, “it’s not much,” loosening his grip on her, but she kept her hands on his arms, eyeing him.

“It’s  _beautiful_ ,” she smiled, and he grinned.

He ran his hands up her back and down her arms, looking her over, “so your trip was alright? How were the rest of your meetings? How’s your family? Did you have a good visit with them?”

She smirked, taking half a step back, running a hand over her hair, “the trip was fine, family’s fine, the meetings  _sucked_.”

They both chuckled, Tom squeezed her hands in his, “we missed you,” she looked down at their hands and tried to suppress a giggle, then glanced back up at him, “the island felt… _different_  without you,” he added.

She reached up to fiddle with the fabric of his collar as they stood together in the center of the porch, he watched her as she looked around at all the lights, smiling, and he pulled her into another kiss before she could say another word. She put her hands on his face, savoring the feeling of his lips against her own, but then pulled back, suddenly a thought had come to her that sliced through his romantic gesture like a knife. She looked at him, hesitant, but she tried to mask it with an anxious snicker, “imagine how I’ll feel when your holiday is over.”

His smile faded and his brow creased, looking down at her, he ran his hands up and down her arms quickly, “I kind of hoped, maybe you would come to Belfast with me?”

Her eyes widened, “for the  _High Rise_  shoot?”

He nodded, “you’re the Ballard expert, it’s only fitting.”

She pulled him down to her and kissed him, hard. This time he groaned, held her close, and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, deepening the kiss and tugging on his lower lip when she pulled away. He laughed breathlessly and kissed her once more, before leading her back into the house.

He pulled her along by her fingers, she felt lightheaded and dreamy; the picturesque scene out back, and her own fatigue setting in made her feel vague. When they made it to the living room, he spun around back to her and swept her into his arms again. She giggled, he smiled down at her, then leaned in and kissed her. She ran her fingers through his hair again, his own fingers kneading into the sensitive skin at her waist, giving her goose bumps. They reluctantly pulled apart again, even if only for air, and Shiloh looked up at him, she could feel her chronic worried expression reappearing on her face.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

She hesitated, “Tom, this was…” she stuttered, “this was amazing to come home to,” he pulled back from her as she spoke, watching her closely, then took her hand in his and held a comforting arm around her, as she continued to struggle with her words, “I just…I don’t…” she sighed, exasperated, “what if we…move to fast?” She silently cursed herself for always fumbling when she tried to speak. She looked up at him, expecting a disappointed expression, but he just smiled down at her.

“Did you think I was going to take you to bed, or ‘have my way’ with you, or something indecent?” he asked jokingly.

She smiled when she saw him smile, and felt her worry creases starting to relax, “I dunno…” she muttered.

He snickered, “darling, I don’t want to rush this,” he gripped her arms and pulled her closer, “I want the full package, the whole nine yards, Shiloh, I don’t want to jump into bed before either of us is ready for it, I don’t want to ruin something special.”

She felt the tears, burning behind her eyes, but she tried desperately to force them back, to swallow them down. She felt her lip shake uncontrollably as she smiled, “this  _is_  special,” she put a shaking hand on his cheek. He covered it with his own and kissed her open palm, his eyes on her, “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice weak but eager.

He smiled, he looked to be weighing options in his mind, “well…” he ran his fingers across her cheek and up into her hair, sending electricity through her skin, “I  _could_ stay, if you want me to…”

She looked up into his startlingly blue eyes, “we can just…sleep?”

He nodded, a faint smile across his thin lips, “just sleep.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she asked hesitantly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She sighed, glancing away. He brought her face back to his and kissed her lightly on the lips, then once on the cheek, and pulled her into a bracing hug. She held onto him, running her hands over the muscles of his back, burying her face in his chest. He placed a hand gently on the back of her head and slowly rocked them both from side to side, then rubbed her back softly, “relax sweetheart,” he said quietly, she could feel the vibrations in his chest, “spending the night with you sounds like heaven.”

She grinned coyly, and let out a laugh when Barley came trotting out from the bedroom. They both looked down at the dog as he eagerly went to Shiloh, and she crouched down to hug him. As she patted and rubbed the smiling pooch, she laughed and looked back up at Tom, who grinned happily.

**~*~**

Tom walked back towards his cottage under the dull light of the moon. The beach was quiet and the water was calm as he smiled to himself, absentmindedly flipping his house keys around in his hand as he walked. Shiloh had been anxious, but they had agreed that him sleeping over wasn’t a bad idea, and the thought of crawling into bed with her filled him with such a warm and uplifting feeling, he felt like he bounced as he walked.

He had left to get his sleep clothes, toothbrush, and anything else he might need in the morning. He had thought of just sleeping in what he was wearing, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by coming to bed in nothing but his briefs, _she was already worried that she’d scare him off by being as timid as she is, didn’t she know that was something he loved about her?_  He smiled and hummed to himself as he got to the house, grabbed up the things he needed, locked the door behind him, and headed back across the beach again.

When he got back to Shiloh’s house, he opened the front door expecting to see her on the couch, reading, or maybe watching the television, but she wasn’t there. Barley sat on the couch alone, watching Tom calmly. Tom laid his bag on the chair as he walked through the room, calling her name. After a moment, he heard her voice, but it hadn’t come from the kitchen, where he thought she might have been. Instead, her voice had come from the other side of the house, from down the hallway. He followed the sound of her voice, and slowly pushed open the door to her small bedroom.

Shiloh was laying on the bed, on her side, one arm propping her head up as she watched him. She was dressed in a silky night gown, it clung to her shapely figure that he was not used to seeing. She looked at him, bending a leg and tilting her hip towards him, “I changed my mind,” her voice sounded breathy, a tone she was clearly forcing through her insecure anxieties.

“Shi,” Tom started, taking a step into the room.

She sat up and crawled forward on the bed towards him, he put his hands up, but she beckoned him closer with a curling finger, “come to bed, Tom, let’s make love,” she cooed.

He went to her, took her arms in his hand and pulled her up to face him. She was surprised by his brief forcefulness, and tried to pull him into a kiss, but he held back from her. Startled by the rebuff, she looked at him, offended. “Shiloh,” he said scornfully, “what are you doing?”

She pulled out of his grip and sat back on her feet on the mattress. After a moment, she hugged her arms around herself and tried to cover herself, “I…” she started to cry. She struggled with her words again, but the tears took over, and Tom sat down on the bed next to her. She repositioned herself and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to sit next to him more comfortably. She still held her arms tightly to herself, he saw her one arm struggle to keep the area above her breast covered.

He looked down at the floor and sighed. “Shi, I thought we were going to wait,” he said softly.

She nodded, the tears streaming down her face, a hand covering her mouth, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Fatigue and shame overpowered her as she cried quietly. After another moment, with some effort, she struggled, “I’m sorry.” He turned to her and put a hand on her back, she almost pulled away from his touch, but it looked like she forced herself to stay put. “I’m so stupid,” she sobbed.

“You’re not stupid, Shiloh, look at me,” he insisted. She turned towards him, but her eyes only traveled as far as his shoulder, she wouldn’t meet his eyes, “listen, please.” She took a deep breath and was finally able to look him in the eyes. He continued, “I want to be with you, and I’m glad you want to be with me too,” he smiled softly, hoping to coax a small grin out of her, “but we said we would take it slow.  _Just sleep,_  remember? There’s no need to feel pressure to rush this, we’ll both know when the time is right. When you and I are both ready, it’ll happen,” she smirked sheepishly, and he smiled, “are you okay?”

She shook her head, and stood up to grab her bathrobe off the hook on the back of the door. She began to pull it on, and he grinned, “you don’t  _have_  to cover up.”

She stopped in the middle of putting her arm in a sleeve, looked at him and saw the keen smile on his face, and suddenly that bright, beautiful smile exploded across her lips, and she laughed. She wiped away the trails of tears from her cheeks and finished putting the bathrobe on. She wrapped it around herself tightly, then came back to the bed and sat next to him, turning towards him, “I’m sorry, Tom…I feel like such a fool.”

He shook he head, shifted to face her, and gathered her hands up in his own, “there’s no reason to.”

She sighed heavily, “it’s been a  _long_  time, and I’m so happy…with you, I guess….I’m eager  _and_  scared, at the same time,” she tried to laugh.

“It’s been a long time for me too,” he said softly.

She looked at him doubtfully, “I find that hard to believe.”

He chuckled, “it’s been over a year.”

She laughed, eyeing him, “try  _eight_  years.”

His eyes widened, “really?”

She smirked at his surprise, “my last boyfriend…well, he was really just a friend with  _benefits_  – he got sick of coming out here to the island…he told me it ‘wasn’t worth the trip’,” she chuckled dryly.

“He sounds like a really great guy,” he said sarcastically.

She laughed, then her face became more sober, though he could see the sarcastic grin inching through as she spoke, “the closest thing I’ve had to a man, in almost a decade, is battery powered and in my underwear drawer.” He felt his cheeks flush for a moment, but he smiled at her growing grin.

Tom changed into his pajamas in the bathroom, and when he came back into the bedroom after brushing his teeth, Shiloh had changed into a more comfortable looking t-shirt and pajama pant set. She had her suitcase on the bed and was sorting clothes into the hamper when he came in and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.

“Which side should I take?” he asked, grinning happily.

She eyed him as she continued sorting clothes, then smirked, “either one is fine.”

She picked the empty suitcase up and turned to put it on the floor near the wall, out of the way. When she turned back around, she had a large book hugged tightly to her chest.

“Whatchya’ got there?” he asked.

She smiled and sat on the other side of the bed, “I got you something in London.”

He balked for a moment, “you didn’t have to get me anything Shi!”

She nodded, “I know, but I saw it, and immediately thought of you,” she held it out to him, and he saw that it was actually two books. She handed them to him, and he looked them over. The larger of the two was a leather-bound scrap book, with a section of the cover for a photo to be inserted. The other was a smaller spiral bound notebook, the cover of which was emblazoned with the words: TRAVEL JOURNAL.

He ran his hands over each cover, “these are lovely,” he said, smiling sweetly at her.

She giggled, “well, I thought, maybe you could put some of your souvenirs in the scrapbook. Maybe put some photos of where you’ve been, and for what movie. Then I saw the travel journal and I thought that was perfect for you.”

He laid the books on the bed and leaned over to her, “they’re wonderful, thank you, my thoughtful beauty,” he leaned in to kiss her and she smiled against his lips.

They got ready for bed, Barley wandered into the room and wanted up on the bed, but Shiloh told him to go to his dog bed. He did so sluggishly, curling up in a ball in the corner where the downy bed lay. Tom slid under the covers next to Shiloh, and she scooted closer to him as he opened his arms for her.

They settled in like that, against the soft pillows, under the comforting blankets, she leaned into the crook of his shoulder and he put his arms around her. They mumbled to each other for a few minutes, quietly giggling and kissing softly. Then both slowly drifted off to sleep, clutching at each other until sleep took them, and their arms went limp, still entwined together in the center of the bed.


	9. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sex*
> 
> More into the relationship of Tom and Shiloh, their new life together, and some problems that come along with it. Tom's dad comes to visit the island, and meet Shiloh, and the drama (and romance) that ensues afterwards between Tom and Shiloh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sex*

Tom woke suddenly in the darkness, not sure what had woken him. His eyes adjusted slowly and he rubbed them for a moment, seeing stars. Then Shiloh stirred again, and he realized she had been what had woken him. He turned to look at her, she had moved away from him in her sleep. His one arm was still outstretched towards her, but she had rolled onto her stomach on the other side of the bed, and was now making noises in her sleep.

First she let out a groan, then a muffled sob. He moved closer to her and she grumbled what sounded like a scream into her pillow. Her arm tried to flail, but he took it in his hand. She immediately started to struggle against him, flipping around to try and hit him. He had to use both arms to try and subdue her. “Shiloh!” he called in a hoarse whisper, her eyes opened a heartbeat later, and she looked up at him, bleary eyed and disorientated. “It’s alright,” he whispered softly, “you’re safe, it was just a bad dream. You’re home, no one here is gonna hurt you.”

She stared at him for a moment, her chest heaving, eyes watering. He looked down at her, once it seemed she was awake enough and had remembered where she was, he let go of her arms. She slowly sat up, and scooted backwards to lean against the pillows. He sat up and crossed his legs on the bed, turning towards her, “are you alright?” he asked.

In the darkness, he saw her look at him, her eyes wide, her breathing beginning to slow, “I’m ok,” she said weakly. He reached out in the dark, his eyes finally adjusted, and gently put his hand on her knee. Through the blankets, he felt her jump, but then her hand was on his and she gripped it tightly. “Sorry,” she said shakily.

He took a chance and scooted towards her on the mattress. She reached over and he heard her fiddle with the switch for her bedside lamp. Suddenly the room was filled with light, she turned to him, and he opened his arms for her. She fell into him, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck and subduing a sob as he enclosed his long arms around her and gently rubbed her back.

He leaned his jaw against her forehead, softly shushing her as she cried, “it’s alright,” he said quietly.

She finally caught her breath, her sobs subsided, and she took another deep breath against him. Without moving, she spoke against his chest, “I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

He continued to rub her back, until she pulled away, wiping tears from her face. She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest, the blankets still covering them. She glanced at him shyly, and he tried to smile, “it’s alright,” he repeated. She looked away, staring down at her arms and legs, “what was it about – if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked.

She glanced over at him, slightly surprised, then sighed heavily, “the attack,” she said quickly. He nodded, not wanting to push her any further. She watched him for a moment. He ran his hands up her leg, trying to comfort her, she stretched her legs back out and turned towards him, “I’ve never told you, exactly what happened.”

He shook his head, putting a hand up quickly, “there’s no need, Shi,” but she cut him off.

“No, I want you to know,” she shifted towards him, putting her hands on the collar of her t-shirt, and pulling it down. He wanted to stop her, but she looked determined. He watched as she stretched the collar almost completely down, she didn’t stop until the center of her chest was visible. He could see the swell of her breasts, ignoring the flush he felt in his cheeks. Along the center of her chest, there was a long, angry-looking scar that travelled down past the stretched collar of the shirt. Beside it, above her right breast, was another scar, about 3-inches long, jagged and raw, but faded with time. She watched him as he looked from the scars, then back up to her eyes. She smirked moodily, “this is the one that took my lung,” she breathed in slowly, then continued, “there are three others, that have not faded away over the years; one on my stomach, another on my back, and one on my thigh.”

Tom swallowed, his stomach churned, his mouth felt dry, “do they hurt?” he felt like an idiot asking.

She smiled numbly and shook her head, “no, not anymore.” She took a moment and sighed, then continued, “they didn’t really hurt when  _it_  happened, either,” she smirked to herself, “it happened so fast.”

He watched her for a moment, she was so stoic, so calm and reserved. It looked like she had turned something inside herself, off, and was purposefully keeping that part of her hidden away while they talked. He felt irate tears forming, hot and stinging in his eyes. He did his best to blink them away, he took her hand and pulled her back to him, she let out a gasp of a laugh and hugged him back, he wrapped his arms around her and they leaned back against the pillows that way. Tom ran his hands up and down her back and arms until she settled in against him and her breathing slowed. He did his best to not think about her attack, how she had been maimed and scarred, what it had done to her. He closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep, he didn’t want to ever let go of her.

  
**~*~**

  
Tom and Shiloh slipped into their relationship as easily as sliding on a pair of gloves. After her first night back from her trip, the two of them had gotten on the same page about where they stood and what they wanted from the relationship. Things seemed to fall into place exceptionally easy. They spent time lounging in her living room, reading silently, or sometimes Tom would read to her a favorite passage of whatever he was reading. Shiloh was excited to get a look at the script for _High Rise_ , which came in the mail for Tom a week or so after her trip. She couldn’t contain her excitement when he asked if she’d help him read some lines. She sat on the couch and stared up in amazement as he went through his scenes with the script in one hand, reading what he was supposed to say, then discussing the context and meaning with her.

They took Barley for walks, usually on the beach where they were almost always the alone. They would walk hand in hand, Barley frolicking in the water or trotting along behind them. They would sit on the boulders at the edge of the beach, talking about anything, and everything. Tom shared his love of Shakespeare with her, and she shared her knowledge of not just contemporary literature, but also of the other side of writing, from an author’s viewpoint. He told her about his trip to Africa, she was especially interested to hear about the aide work he did with Unicef.

They went for walks in town too, strolling lackadaisically down the pavement along Main Street. The first time they’d walked hand in hand past the cafés and shops, Tom had found himself looking around surreptitiously for any sneaking paparazzi or intruding photographers. When he hadn’t seen any, he relaxed, and their walks became exactly what they were meant to be; relaxing and enjoyable. Phyllis had seemed especially excited about their newfound love, she had exclaimed loudly the first time they’d gone into her bakery. It had been the first time that either of them had seen her since the Burray Brawl. At first Tom wasn’t sure how she had found out about them, but he quickly realized that she wasn’t the only one who had seen them kiss at the dance, and others had seen some of their argument that had occurred alongside the road immediately afterwards.

Shiloh seemed to blossom within the new relationship. She was still her old self; timid and shy, but incredibly sarcastic and dry-witted. With Tom, now that she was more relaxed around him, she didn’t seem as anxious as she had been before. She wasn’t afraid to let him see her goofy side, which melted his heart. They spent evenings giggling together over dinner. Some nights she would put her DVD of _The Avengers_  on and he would reenact his scenes for her amusement, and there were evenings that they would play with Barley on the floor until both were gasping for breath from laughter.

She had gone into more detail of her complications resulting from her attack. She never went into too much detail about the attack itself, but she wasn’t exactly afraid to talk about it. She had explained her limitations when it came to exercise, and her breathing problems. She had shown him her other scars, and he had noticed that she never spoke the name of the man who had stabbed her. Tom didn’t push, he honestly didn’t  _want_  to know the details, he felt queasy when he thought about the gruesome act, and he didn’t want to ask her to relive it again.

Tom spent less and less time at his own cottage, it got to the point that Shiloh joked he should rent it out himself, which caused them both to giggle. When he did go back to the small house, it felt much like it had the day he’d first walked into it; empty, new and unused, sterile but ever awaiting. He had moved the majority of his things to her home, even though he hadn’t even brought that much with him to the island.

As the day of his father’s visit neared, Shiloh started getting nervous again. She was jittery all through dinner the night before his dad was set to arrive, even though Tom tried to calm her. They had made arrangements for his father to stay in Tom’s unused cottage for the two nights he was staying on the island. His father was making the trip to the island right before he had another business trip, so he wouldn’t be able to stay too long with them. She admitted to Tom that she was relieved that his father wouldn’t be staying very long, a couple of days didn’t sound overly daunting to her. Tom reassured her that there was nothing to worry about, his father would love her, and so would his mother when she eventually got to meet her. Shiloh smiled, but the smile was still uncertain and skeptic.

The morning Tom’s father arrived on the ferry, she fiddled with her fingers while they waited on the dock. Tom reached over and took one of her hands in his and leaned close to her ear, “breathe,” he said softly. She smirked and playfully punched him in the arm.

They watched the people disembark from the ferry, she squeezed his hand a little tighter as he waved at an older man at the edge of the boat. The older man smiled and waved back, and Tom glanced at Shiloh, who urged him to step forward. She watched as the two men hugged, and she immediately saw where Tom got his looks from, as he brought his father forward to her, carrying his luggage for him.

“Dad, this is Shiloh,” Tom said as they came over to where she stood, she felt anxious, but she smiled despite her stomach doing back flips.

The older man smiled brightly at her and held out his hand, she gripped it with her own and he leaned down and kissed her knuckles lightly. She laughed shakily, and he put his other hand over her own, “It’s lovely to meet you Shiloh, Tommy’s told me so much about you” he said warmly, “I’m James, but please, call me Jim.”

She agreed cheerfully and the three of them walked back to the parking lot towards the rental car Tom used. Jim spoke briefly of his trip on the train, and how so much had changed since he had last been to the island. Shiloh let her anxieties fall away when she realized that she and Tom’s father shared a common love of the island, “when were you last here?” she asked him, as Tom drove.

Jim thought for a moment, “1965, right before I met Tommy’s mother,” he said with an easy grin, so similar to Tom’s own effortless smile.

Shiloh smiled and nodded, “but your family is from Greenock, right?”

Jim nodded, “born and bred. Eva’ been?” he asked in his Scottish drawl.

She shook her head, “born and bred in California, sadly,” she smirked.

He chuckled, “Ah yes, the American in the Scottish Isles.” He smiled with a twinkle in his eye, “You should see it though, Greenock is beautiful, just like ol’ Burray.”

He watched the scenery the rest of the drive up the hillside towards the cottages. He didn’t let Tom fuss over him as he got his own luggage from the trunk and brought it into the house with them. Tom showed him around the cottage as Shiloh watched, grinning. Jim assured them that he was settled enough, and wanted to see some of the island before they went out to dinner. The three of them drove to Shiloh’s house to introduce Jim to Barley, who was happily awaiting them. She showed him the view from her back deck, and they walked with him along their beach. He remarked at how the island had only grown more beautiful in the last forty years.

Dinner flew by in a whirl of amiable chit chat and raucous laughter. Tom told fantastic stories of his childhood, while Shiloh smiled brightly, and Jim would counter each story with his own version, which caused Shiloh to double over in giggles at the look of exasperation on Tom’s face. She felt much more at ease, having actually met the man. She couldn’t remember what she had been so nervous about. Jim is so much like  _Tom, it’s no surprise they’re father and son,_ she thought, _what was I afraid of?_

“So, Shiloh, Tom tells me that you’re a writer,” Jim said after they had finished their meals and were all nursing drinks. Shiloh had declined anything alcoholic, she had opted to just work on the lemonade she had had with her meal.

She was caught off guard by the statement, but recovered quickly with a flash of a grin at Tom, she nodded, “that was a long time ago,” she smiled.

Jim nodded, “I remember your books,” he said quietly, his low tone shocking in comparison to the jolly, joking one he had adopted throughout most of dinner. Then he added, “and I remember what happened to you,” he said gravely.

Shiloh’s smile faded and she looked down at the table for a moment, she wasn’t sure if it was humiliation or embarrassment she felt, but she was uneasy nonetheless. Jim and Tom both saw it, even though she tried to laugh it away, and Tom quickly changed the subject, “tomorrow, pop, we can go to that beach you always used to talk about, up by the hotel.”

“There’s a hotel there now?” Jim asked, shocked.

The three of them drove back to their end of the island, and Tom and Shiloh dropped Jim off at Tom’s cottage for the night. They said their good-nights, and she and Tom drove up to her house in silence. Shiloh was staring blankly through the windshield as she pulled up and parked next to her car in the driveway.

“You all right?” Tom asked as he looked over at her.

She brought herself out of her daze, and looked at him, took a moment to realize what he had asked her, then nodded and flashed him a quick smile. She was quiet as they went inside and got ready for bed. She had less of an issue getting dressed in front of him now, which Tom had confessed he was happy to see. She hadn’t completely stripped for him, she was still modest enough to keep her bra and underwear on as she changed, but she had become the master of unhooking and removing her bra from underneath her sleep shirt.  _Or perhaps all women know how to do that,_  he thought, smirking.

When he climbed into bed next to her and kissed her, he felt her jump with surprise. She let out a muffled moan of shock as he deepened the kiss, and stretched himself out next to her. He kneaded his fingers into her side, eliciting more gasps from her as they kissed. He pulled her off of her back and rolled them over so she lay on top of him, she giggled into his mouth and he smiled against her lips.

“What,” she said in between kisses, “are you doing?” she laughed.

He chuckled, “kissing the woman I love, is that a problem?”

She muttered a ‘uh-uh’ in her throat, without taking her mouth from his, and he ran his fingers up into her hair. He knew what that did to her. She moaned and shifted her weight, spreading her legs across his hips and straddling him. She yanked her lips from his, and sat up, pulling her hair back from her face and breathing heavy.

He reached up and ran his hands up and down her sides, her giggle was husky. He smiled up at the sight of her, “are you feeling alright?” he asked as he touched her, “you’ve been rather quiet since dinner.”

Her smile faded, she dropped her hands to her thighs that straddled him. She looked forlorn, upset about something. After a moment, while she played with the hem of his shirt, she started, “it just…caught me off guard, that your dad…” she trailed off.

“Knew who you were?” he finished the thought for her.

She nodded, then added, “and what had happened to me.”

He let out a long sigh, she watched the air leave his chest, running her hands lightly over his stomach. He caught her hands in his own, and their eyes connected, “don’t take it personally, Shi, he probably just Googled you.”

She nodded, looking away. She slid off of him, rolled onto her side and laid alongside him, propping her head up on one arm, “have you ever Googled me?”

He turned to look at her, questioning, “what do you mean?”

She shrugged, a small smirk growing, “I mean, I Googled you, when I heard you were coming to the island.”

Tom looked away from her, up at the ceiling for a moment, before taking a deep breath, “I  _have_  Googled you, yes,” he admitted.

Shiloh watched him closely, “when?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to smirk, “why?”

She shrugged again, “just curious, was it before we met?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, turning towards her, “what if it was?”

She let out a laugh, but her eyes weren’t smiling, it was a hollow sound coming from her, “why won’t you just tell me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “I don’t care if you did, or not, Tom,” her tone was firm.

Tom looked down between them, at the bed they were laying on, sighed again, “I looked you up on my second day here, after Richard told me your name. I thought I had heard of you somewhere, and when I Googled you, I remembered your books.”

Her face changed and she sat up slowly. She looked like she was about to hug her knees to her chest, like she often did when she was thinking hard or upset about something, but at the last second, she decided to throw her legs over her side of the bed and turn her back to him. Tom sat up and tried to move towards her, but she stood up before he could reach her.

She stepped across the room, hugging herself, then turned back to him, “so…” she started, her expression was one he hadn’t seen on her before, one of indignation, anger rising in her cheeks, “so, did you know all about my attack, _before_  Billy’s birthday party?” He began to shake his head, but she continued, “you knew all about my stabbing, I’m sure it was all over Google,” she laughed derisively to herself, “what else did you know?”

He saw the tears forming before they fell from her dark eyes, and he jumped off the bed and crossed the room in two strides. She stepped back from him when he neared, but he continued, putting his hands on her arms even though she tried to push him away, “I’m sorry Shiloh,” he said, just above a whisper, trying to get her to look at him, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, I was just curious.”

She did look at him then. Her eyes wide, “ _curious_?” she fumed. “Curious to know why your new neighbor kept to herself? Curious to know why - on an island you were only  _visiting_  - there might be someone who didn’t want to be your friend? That is  _curious_ , isn’t it, Tom?” She was raving now, her face pale with fury and tears falling freely, “what else are you curious about?” she sounded close to hysterics, “do you want to know how, for the first few years, I couldn’t sleep, how I had night terrors? How I couldn’t leave the house for months? Or maybe how I had a panic attack every time someone came to my door? You wanted to know all about the pathetic hermit that you happened to meet while on your holiday.”

“Shiloh!” he shook her. She slapped him across the cheek and he took a step back, releasing her arms from his grip.

She leaned back against the wall and stared at him, crying. He put a hand up to his stinging cheek, looking back at her. For a split second, he thought of turning, taking his things and leaving, but he looked at her, standing there in her tears, her confusion and shame, and his heart broke. “Shi, please, listen to me,” he lowered his hand and held it out to her. She stared at it for a moment as if she didn’t know what it was, then looked back up at him. “Please,” he begged. After another minute, she hesitantly reached out a shaking hand towards his and put it in his palm.

He slowly led her to the edge of the bed, and they sat down. She pulled her hand from his and put it in her lap, staring down at her hands so she wouldn’t have to look at him. He watched her, searching for his words, “it was a stupid mistake, and I never should’ve done it. I was curious, yes, I admit that, and I’m sorry.” She looked over in his direction, but her eyes focused on his knees, nowhere near his face, but he still continued on, “as soon as I’d read about you, I felt terrible. I felt like I’d invaded your privacy, and I didn’t even  _know_  you at the time. When I  _did_  get to know you, I felt even worse!” She glanced at him through her tears, glancing away again quickly. He reached out and lightly placed his hand on hers, and when she didn’t pull away, he thought it was a good sign. He continued, “I wanted to get to know the real you, not what someone wrote about you in some article. I wanted to be your  _friend_ ; you had me spellbound from the very beginning.”

She looked at him again, her tears still falling easily, but she was finally able to hold his gaze, “really?” she asked shakily.

He smiled and nodded, “even  _before_  we met, you had me in a trance.”

Her brow creased, “what do you mean?”

He smiled wider, remembering, “my first full day on the island, after I had come in on the ferry and basically  _collapsed_  at the cottage, I saw you, and Barley, outside the market. You made sure not to look at me, though,” he smirked.

She looked away, rubbing her arms distractedly. She brought her hands together in her lap again and began to fiddle with her fingers, “I,” she stuttered, “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

He chuckled softly, “don’t worry about it, I’ve been hit harder.” He saw her smirk, but she wouldn’t look at him, she continued to stare down at her lap, “Shi,” he said softly. She glanced over at him, looking at his hands, then up at his face, “I love you,” he started. He saw her lip start to shake, “I’ve _fallen in love_  with you, the  _real_ you. Not the Shiloh Winters I read about online, not the Shiloh Winters I saw on the book flap of the paperback I read ten years ago, but the Shiloh Winters sitting in front of me now.  _She_  is the woman who…who let me into her life, even though she didn’t like to meet new people.  _She_  is the one who helped me see the other side of me life, who helped me see it from a different perspective, one I’d never considered before.  _She_  is the woman I opened my heart to, because  _she_  opened her own for me, and  _she’s_  the one I want to wake up to every morning, for the rest of my life.”

Her mouth fell open, she covered it with a hand and tried to stifle a sob. She looked away from him, and he scooted closer to her and threw his arms around her. He was thankful she didn’t try to push him away. Instead, she fell against him, leaning her head against his shoulder. She let her sobs come freely then, and he rubbed her back and held her close until she was able to regain control of herself.

She didn’t pull away from him, but she got control of her tears and her breathing. He continued to hold her, and stroked her back softly. She ran a hand down his chest, watching it as he breathed, “I’ve never been in love like this,” she said quietly.

He smiled above her, his cheek leaning against her head, “me neither.”

Then she did pull back, just far enough to look him in the eyes. She didn’t question him, didn’t accuse him of anything more, she just looked at him. He looked back at her, searching her face. It happened suddenly, she held his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. He gasped at the abrupt movement, but then he relaxed and held her tightly. He lightly flicked his tongue over her lips, then covered them with his own. One of his hands delved up into her hair, entangling his fingers there, the other hand at her neck, a lone index finger playing with her earlobe. She stretched her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, deeper into his arms, and he met her half way. He leaned into her, with his lips, his arms, his whole body, until she began to lean back, and the two of them shifted together on the bed.

They moved upwards on the mattress, towards the top of the bed, Shiloh lying on her back, Tom settling next to her. They gazed at each other, all memory of the argument quickly forgotten as they looked into each other’s eyes. Shiloh felt whole, when she was with him, and she knew it would never be like that with anyone else. She knew it, and she could feel it when he looked at her, that he felt the same. They had both been taken by surprise by this force that had brought them together, and it was finally beginning to make sense to both of them.

“Tom,” she whispered, as he leaned down to kiss her again, in between kisses she sighed, “make love to me.”

The words were like a lightning bolt through his entire body. He looked at her tentatively, but saw the hunger in her eyes. He felt himself grow hard immediately, and he let out a low growl as his lips went to her neck. She gasped as he gently nipped and sucked the flesh there, trailing down to her shoulder. She reached down between them and started to pull her t-shirt up. He quickly started to help her once he saw what she was doing. She sat up slightly, pulled the shirt over her head, and released her naked breasts to him. He looked down at her, she fought the urge to cover her scar with her arms, but he had seen the slight movement and gently smiled down at her, “there’s no need to cover up,” he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her collar bone, eliciting another gasp from her. “You might be ashamed of them,” he continued to kiss her chest, purposefully heading towards her scars, “but they’re a  _part_  of you,” he ran his lips lightly over the raised flesh of where she had been attacked, “so I love them.”

He leaned back and hurriedly pulled his own shirt up and over his head and threw it aside, before coming back to her and covering her skin with his feathery kisses again. She gasped, raspy and deep in her throat, as his lips travelled further down to her breasts. He felt her squirm beneath him as his lips traveled, leaving wet, tingling footprints down her chest until he stopped at one breast. She sucked air in sharply as he covered her nipple with his hot, wet mouth. His lips encased the sensitive nub, and he lapped at it with his tongue and gently teased it with his teeth. She arched up into him, his hands travelling down her sides, pausing on her hips. He started to drag her pajama pants down, pulling them over the flesh of her thighs, freeing her legs from the fabric and throwing them onto the floor. His hands passed over her hips, his palms warm on her sensitive skin, and she moaned and pulled his face up to hers. Their lips connected again and she breathed into him, shaky and raspy. He felt her emotions warring inside her, through her eager and timid kisses, and he pulled back to look her in the eyes.

She smiled anxiously up at him, he continued, “Shi, it’s  _me_ , focus on me, nothing else. You’re  _fine_ , nothing’s going to hurt you, nobody is here to hurt you…” She finally caught a breath and held it for a few beats, then let it out, her body starting to relax. Tom softly stroked her cheek with his thumb, “I just want to love you,” he whispered into her lips.

Shiloh licked his lips as he kissed her, and he buried his face in her neck, laying more soft and feathery kisses along her skin. She looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom and felt the hot tears behind her eyes again. She took a deep breath, but a few rogue tears still managed to escape her eyes, even as she tried to blink them away. Tom pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her, saw her tears, and smiled sweetly, “darling, don’t cry, we don’t have to do this –”

“I want to!” she hissed, holding on to him. He furrowed his brow at her, smiling. She smiled back, placing a hand on his muscled chest, “I want you, Tom, but….I’m rusty…it’s been a long time.”

His smile broadened, “I know darling, it’s alright.”

“I don’t mean to cry,” she started. She felt her lip quiver again, but this time, Tom swooped in and covered it with his own, kissing her fervently, sucking on her bottom lip and nipping it gently with his teeth. She groaned into his mouth and he ran his hands down her sides again, stopping at the brim of her panties.

His fingers lingered momentarily on the hem of the thin fabric, and he paused in the middle of kissing her to whisper softly, “if you must cry, let it be  _happy_  tears, tears of ecstasy,” he kissed her again and she suppressed a giggle as he began to pull down her underwear. She helped him, and soon her panties were flung to the floor with their other clothes.

Tom worked the elastic of his sweatpants with one hand as he leaned on the other arm, and she reached down to help. Soon his pants and briefs were on the floor as well, and he scooted closer to her on the mattress, his long legs against hers as she lay on her back. She felt his expressive eyes travel up and down her body, when he came back up and met her own eyes, he was all smiles.

“You are unbelievably gorgeous, did you know that?” he sighed.

She let out a low laugh, gently pushing at his chest, feeling the taut muscles working under his skin. He flexed an arm and slipped a hand under her waist, pulling her up off of the mattress and rolling them again so that she once again sat on top of him. For a second, she felt exposed and nervous, being naked and astride him like this, but the feeling passed as he touched her. She sighed at the feeling of his hardness between her thighs, and she placed her hands just under his nipples. He jumped slightly as she tickled him. She took a moment to breathe, then straightened her back, basking in the way he gazed up at her, mesmerized.

“ _Stunning_ , I think is the proper word,” he said, trailing a hand up her arm, over her shoulder, then slowly down her chest. His fingers lingered for a moment on one breast, his thumb grazed the scar in between her breasts, and he meant to pull away. Instead, Shiloh put her hand over his and held it there, covering her breast and the scars that she’d been ashamed of for so long.

“You’re the only one who has ever made me feel that way,” she said quietly, taking his other hand and bringing it up to cup her other breast. His hands were just the right size, or her breasts were, for him to cup them perfectly in each of his hands. His fingers began to massage gently, kneading the responsive skin. She closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling her nipples growing even harder than they had already been, and then Tom flicked a thumb across one of them and she almost cried out.

Instead, she contained herself, let out a breathy moan, and he continued to fondle her like that for a few more moments. Her breathing slowed and she was able to inhale completely, her hands trailed from his own, down his arms, and back to his chest where she kneaded at the muscles there, “ _Coriolanus_  was really good for you,” she said softly, and they both grinned.

Tom’s hands left her breasts, went to her back once again, and rolled her again onto her back. This time, he draped one of his long legs across her own. She could feel that hardness between his legs digging into her hip, and the sensation only excited her more. The feelings of shame and embarrassment, and the brief argument they had just had, all felt light years away now.

He leaned back down and began to kiss and suck at her tender flesh, licking and sucking gently here and there, until he hovered just above her stomach. She looked down at him and saw him looking back at her, mischief in those piercing eyes. She drew in breath as she felt Tom’s hands on her. He gripped her thighs gently, ignoring the scar that he knew she didn’t want him to notice. Instead, he kissed his way up her other thigh, stopped at her knee, then kissed his way back down. He could feel her trembling as he neared the warmth between her legs, he looked up to see her watching the ceiling, breathing heavy.

“It’s impossible  _not_  to love you, Shiloh,” he said quietly, and the breath of his words across her exposed clit made her jump. He smiled, she gasped suddenly when he kissed the skin above her hyper-sensitive mound. With his face that close, he knew what she was expecting. He breathed softly on her folds once more, she squirmed, and then he stuck out his tongue and quickly flicked the small bean of nerves at her center.

“Oh!” she yelped, but she didn’t pull away. She brought one knee up, placing her foot on the mattress to one side of him, then her other leg did the same. He smiled at how much she wanted this, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long, with how hard she made him, but he would be able to at least pleasure her first.

He delved his tongue deep into her warm, wet folds and Shiloh called out, half from surprise, half from sheer ecstasy. He lapped at her wetness, gently pulled on her clit and licked up and down the sides of her pussy. Shiloh writhed in front of him, he held on to her thighs, his fingers gripping into her flesh. He pushed his tongue into her tight opening and she let out a moan so loud, it echoed through the room. Her fingers crawled into his hair, gripping it tightly as he lapped at her delicious juices.

He peeled one hand from her luscious thigh, and slid a finger deep into her core, “Tom!” she cried out, but she didn’t pull away. He began to slide his finger in and out of her wetness, her hips jerked each time he reached inside and hit that receptive spot. His finger inside her curled up towards the ceiling, rubbing that mound he knew felt like rapture in a button, when suddenly she leaned forward and grabbed at his hand.

He looked up at her, surprised. Her eyes were wide, she was out of breath, and she shook her head, “I want to come  _with_  you,” she breathed. Tom smiled, then began to crawl back up over her body with his own. He felt his thick hardened cock knock against the back of her thigh as she parted her legs, and his eyes found hers and searched for the go-ahead.

Shiloh nodded, reached down between them, and took his cock in her hand. He shuddered at her touch, lightning coursing through him. She ran the tip up and down her slick opening, and they both moaned loudly. She reached her other hand up under his arm and ran her fingers up and down his back as she guided him into her opening. He started to push slowly, the tip glided in without hindrance, thanks to her excitement.

“Oh Tom,” she moaned up at him. He looked down at her, watching her face as he pushed deeper into her. Her eyes widened with each inch, until he reached the hilt and took a moment to feel her, warm and wet around him.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked quietly. She gently shook her head, leaning up to kiss him softly. She was so tight, he didn’t want to pull out, even if it did mean coming back into her. She moaned, and he felt her loop her legs around his thighs, her feet behind his ass. Her arms snaked around his ribs to claw at his back, and he slowly pulled out of her. Just before pulling the head of his cock out, he thrust back into her and she called out in surprise.

Tom looked down at her, leaned down and connected his lips with hers, she kissed him eagerly, the moment of their union finally upon them, and it felt amazing. He looked down at her, a look of subtle astonishment swept across her soft features, a single tear trailing from one of her eyes. He leaned down and kissed the side of her temple, swiping away the salty tear with his lips. She ran her hands over his face, smiling back at him. Then he pulled out again, then thrust back into her again, hitting that sweet spot which he had teased before with his finger.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, moaning as she kissed him. He began to pump faster, each time he hit her G-spot, he felt himself closer to the edge, almost tumbling over it. She raked her nails across the back of his shoulders, he pounded into her faster. She arched upwards into him and he could feel her internal muscles clenching around his cock. His own breathing quickened and he felt her bringing him to an orgasm he knew he wasn’t prepared for.

She moaned loudly, “don’t stop Tom!” He felt her contract inside and she called out in ecstasy as her orgasm crashed over her. The tightness and added lubrication was enough to send him over the edge, but seeing her squirm beneath him and call out his name in the throes of orgasmic passion was what did it for him. He thrust into her one more time before spilling his seed deep within her, his whole body bucked into her as he came, emptying within her. His orgasm subsided, and he leaned down to bury his face in her shoulder and catch his breath.

He listened to her breathing, her heart beat, as she ran her hands up and down his back. He didn’t want to move, even as he shrank inside her. He felt like pulling out of her would be like separating the two of them, severing the connection they’d created. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of her and she smiled up at him, new tears forming in her eyes, but that radiant smile still beaming.

“Love, you  _are_  incredible,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. He smile widened and he leaned down to kiss her, she returned the kiss eagerly, her legs still wrapped around his hips.

  
**~*~**

  
The next morning, they woke groggily and sore, though neither complained. They smiled and giggled as they started to get dressed, trying to get ready in time to go meet his father at the other cottage and take him around the island. Shiloh made them a pot of coffee, half dressed in a pair of underwear and her short bathrobe, leaning against the kitchen counter, when Tom came up behind her. He had pulled his pajama pants on, but nothing else, and when he hugged her around the waist, she could feel his hard on bumping against the back of her thigh.

She turned over her shoulder and met his lips, smiling as his eager hands trailed up to grope her breasts through the fluffy bathrobe. She giggled into his mouth and pulled away, but he pulled her back into him and kissed her.

“We don’t have  _time_ ,” she hissed.

“Dad can wait,” he growled.

She laughed and kissed him once more before pulling away and heading out of the kitchen with her coffee mug. He sighed, then poured himself a cup and followed her.

They took Barley and picked up his dad at the other cottage, and they drove around the island for the next few hours. They would turn and stop whenever Jim pointed out a landmark he remembered. They explored parts of the island Tom hadn’t seen before, and even though he wanted to be alone with Shiloh again, it was wonderful to see his father so excited to revisit his old stomping grounds.

They arrived at the other beach, which was relatively empty of any tourists at this time of day, and Shiloh walked with Barley down to the edge of the water while Tom and his father watched.

“Late night?” his father asked after a few moments.

Tom smirked and glanced over at his dad, shrugging, “is it that obvious?”

His father just chuckled, “she seems like a great girl. A little nervous, though.”

Tom nodded as he watched Shiloh throw a stick and Barley ran to retrieve it, “she is, but she’s had good reason to be like that.”

Jim nodded, “she seems better with you.”

Tom smiled and looked over at his father who was watching him, “you think so?”

His father nodded, “I can see it, you have that effect on her.”

Surprised that his father had picked up on that aspect of their relationship so quickly, Tom laughed softly to himself, then took a deep breath, “I love her, dad.”

His father didn’t look surprised, “I know.”

Tom watched his father as he turned back to watch the water. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to ask, “do you approve?”

His father turned back to him, “you don’t need my approval, Tom, you’re a grown man.”

Tom nodded, “I know…” he wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at, he stuttered over his words, “do you think mom will like her?”

Jim was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly, “I think so. She’ll surely like how happy you are,” he smiled and Tom grinned. Then his father added, “she might not be particularly fond of the age difference, though.”

This statement hadn’t caught Tom completely off guard. Since his father had come to visit, he had been expecting some sort of remark about the age difference between him and Shiloh. “The age difference isn’t an issue, dad,” he said firmly.

Jim nodded, “good.”

The three of them drove back to Shiloh’s house, and Jim sat in the kitchen with them while Tom and Shiloh prepared dinner. They laughed, Jim had more stories of Tom as a child, and Shiloh enjoyed talking with the older man about the island and what it had been like decades before. While they ate dinner at the dining table, they chatted about Tom’s career, and his upcoming projects. Tom mentioned that Shiloh would be going to Belfast with him for the next movie shoot, and his father seemed happy for them. 

Tom left the house with his father, and the two of them took the beach route back to the cabin Jim was staying in. The two men walked in almost complete silence, except for a vague statement here and there about the weather, or their favorite sports team. When they got to the house, Tom said good night to his father, and they made plans to have a quick spot of tea the next morning before Jim left on the ferry.

When Tom got back to Shiloh’s house, he stepped inside and found her lounging on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV.

“How are you doing?” he asked, as he sat down next to her.

She leaned back and laid her head on his lap, smiling up at him, “I’m fine, how are you?”

He grinned down at her, “I can’t wait to make love to you in every room of the house,” he confessed with a growl, and she giggled.


	10. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Shiloh settle in to their whirlwind romance and enjoy a much-needed healthy sex life, but his fame threatens to get in the way, and an unexpected surprise catches everyone off guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING: Some more explicit sex in this one, not as much as the last chapter, but it's still there...

Shiloh sat at her desk in her office, leaning her chin on her hand as she stared at the computer screen. She had been staring at the same paragraph for what felt like hours, without being able to figure out what to do with it. She had shut the office door after Tom had left to go to the market, he had invited her, but she had told him she wanted to get some work done. He hadn’t pried; he had been very respectful when it came to her writing. She had never actually told him that she was still writing, but he had figured as much when she would disappear into her office every so often.

She didn’t write science fiction anymore, that genre felt off-limits to her. It was a huge part of the life she had put behind her, a life that felt like someone else’s, after all these years. It had never been her preferred genre anyway, she had just been ‘discovered’ that way. She had found a publisher who specialized in science fiction, and when they had read her first novel of the  _Darkness Within_  series, they had immediately wanted to sign her to a contract. She had just been excited to finally get published. She had infused the novels with the horror aspect, because that’s what she had  _wanted_  to write;  _horror_. In that old life, when she was that old Shiloh, she used to love scaring people with her stories. She loved coming up with things to terrify and shock her friends and family. This current version of herself felt differently now, she’d seen enough real-life horror to last a lifetime.

She had stopped writing for a few years after the attack. It wasn’t until she had come to the island, and found herself alone with her thoughts, and Barley, that she realized how important writing actually was to her. She had been lonely, even when her old ‘boyfriend’ would come and visit. She had begun to entertain herself with stories, just like she had when she was a kid. Now, they weren’t ghost stories, or tales of monsters and demons; they were long lost love stories. She wrote stories of unrequited love that could withstand centuries, stories of lovers torn apart by war and conflict, but who could still be together in their dreams. They were the stories that kept her interested, kept her fingers pounding the keyboard, and kept her scribbling in her notebook into the wee hours of the mornings.

Now she sat at her computer, the door closed and the window open. She stared blankly at the complicated paragraph in front of her, and heard Tom’s car pull into the driveway. She glanced out the open window, but all she could see was the ocean beyond the trees, the driveway was on the other side of the house. She turned towards the door, and listened for Tom’s footsteps as he came in with the groceries. She heard Barley go to meet him, heard the jingle of the dog’s tags as he followed Tom into the kitchen. She thought about getting up, leaving the difficult text to itself for a while, and joining Tom in the kitchen. She stared at the door, but didn’t get up.

After a few minutes, the sound of music wafted through the closed door and she smirked to herself. She imagined Tom in the kitchen, bopping his head to the beat as he put away the groceries. She lowered her fingers back to the keyboard and began to type.

The music had stopped, and there was a soft knock on the door as Tom stuck his head inside. She continued typing, still smirking to herself, as he slowly walked over and stood behind her. She wasn’t worried about him reading her unfinished work. She knew he wouldn’t invade her creative process like that. Instead, his fingers snaked up to her shoulders and began to work at the tense muscles. She closed her eyes, her fingers continued typing for another moment before she lifted them off the keyboard. She let out a low moan as he massaged her tight shoulders. His long, strong fingers kneaded into knots that were always there. She leaned her head back, eyes still closed, and after a brief moment, she felt him lean down, and his lips covered hers softly.

She kissed him back, one hand reaching up to coil into his hair. He moaned into her throat, still massaging her shoulders as he kissed her from above. Her other hand reached up and found his chest, pulling at his shirt, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

He tore his lips from hers with a gasp, and she opened her eyes to see his face upside down in front of hers. She smiled up at him, and he beamed back at her, “can you take a break?” he asked. She nodded, and he stepped back to let her rise from the chair. She stepped away from the desk, and he pulled her into him, his hands went to her back, gripping her tightly. She kissed him, her hands at the back of his neck. He stepped backwards, taking her with him, and they slowly made their way out of the room.

Instead of heading towards the bedroom, Tom led them towards the living room, Shiloh knew just by the direction, even with her eyes closed as they kissed. She didn’t hear Barley anywhere; she assumed he was in the kitchen with a bone, the kitchen door shut tight. Tom tore his lips away from hers again, her lips felt raw, swollen, but she reveled in that feeling. He looked at her with starry eyes, glazed and dreamy as he pulled her towards the couch. She smirked as she followed him.

After his father had left, they had spent the next several weeks practically home-bound. They had hardly left the bed for the first few days. When they had decided that they actually  _did_  have to go out, to get food at least, it was a very fast trip. They came back, and had ended up smashing a carton of eggs when he had lifted her onto the counter top and yanked her panties off. She had glanced at the smashed eggs on the floor as he had nipped at her neck, guided himself inside her, and began to fuck her senseless. She had forgotten about the cracked yokes quickly enough, pulling at his unbuttoned shirt and calling out his name as he had pounded into her. They had been like that for weeks now, taking a walk outside to give Barley some exercise, then quickly coming back to the house and stripping each other’s clothes off and making love in whatever room they could.

Now, as Tom sat on the couch, Shiloh stood in front of him with a mischievous smile across her lips. She knelt down in front of him, unzipped his pants, and took him quickly into her mouth. He groaned loudly, she felt his fingers in her hair, she reached under the skirt she was wearing and began to pull her panties down. Tom’s hips bucked upwards, he moaned and leaned his head back on the couch as she sucked and lapped at his cock. He moaned her name, then she drew her mouth from his dick and raised herself up off the floor.

He opened his eyes to see her climbing on top of him. She spread her skirt over their laps, and slowly lowered herself on top of him. She threw her head back as he slid easily into her, he growled deep in his throat at her slick tightness, and she gripped his shoulders firmly as she started to move up and down. He held her by the hips, his fingers digging into her through her clothes.

She leaned forward and kissed him, breathing hard, gasping for air in between kisses. She was close, and she could tell that he was too. Her thighs burned as she moved on top of him, and he slid his hands up her back and into her hair, holding her face close to his.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth. She smiled against his lips, and he thrust up into her. She called out in surprise, holding onto him as he thrust upwards again. She gripped the back of the couch for leverage as he pounded up into her, and she threw her head back again as he brought her to orgasm.

She called out his name and he hugged her to him, his face at her throat, kissing the sensitive flesh as she rocked through her orgasm. He continued to buck up into her, until he grunted and she felt him tense within her. She felt his hot seed and his hands clutched at her until his own orgasm passed.

He fell back onto the couch and she fell against him, both breathing heavy. She took a moment longer than him to catch her breath, then she pushed herself up and brought her face to his, kissing his soft lips lightly, then gently tugging on one with her teeth.

He giggled, and she felt it reverberate through him and into her own body. She smiled and ran her hand through his hair, “that was a  _nice_  break,” she smirked.

  
**~*~**

  
Later that night, as Shiloh sat on the bed with a book in her lap, Tom carried his computer into the bedroom and sat down with it. He threw his legs up on the bed and opened the computer, bringing up his email account. Ben had replied to his last email, which had been photos that both he and Shiloh had taken, around the island. Some had been of the two of them, either taken by Tom’s outstretched arm, or a friend nearby. Some were of Barley playing on the beach, others were landscape shots. Ben had remarked at the beauty of the island, and had written that he was excited to meet Shiloh, whenever that might happen.

A new, urgent looking email from Luke caught Tom’s attention, and he clicked it open.

_Tom,_   
_Just wanted to give you a warning; there has been buzz around here lately that you were sighted on Burray Island. We’ve gotten word that there’s going to be a blurb in The Mirror about your ‘island getaway.’_   
_I don’t know who tipped them off, but don’t be surprised if you start seeing photogs around there soon. Be careful, let me know if you want to end your holiday early or not, alright?_   
_Call me._   
_Luke_

Tom sat back against the pillows in shock. Shiloh glanced at him, then did a double take at the look on his face, “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked at her, he felt close to tears. He felt that sudden rush of panic that he had felt when she had told him how her own agent had asked about rumors that he was on one of the Orkneys. Now  _The Mirror_  had found out?  _How had they managed that? Who had tipped them off?_  He wondered. Whirling thoughts of ISP addresses and Twitter postings flittered through his mind as he ran a hand over his face and looked back at her. He took a deep breath, then turned the laptop towards her to let her read it.

She looked at him, then at the screen. She read the email from Luke quickly, then sat back and looked at Tom. She looked confused, but the anxiousness he had been expecting from her didn’t come, instead, she looked reserved, as if she’d been expecting this.

“I guess it was a matter of time,” she said quietly.

He gaped at her, “ _a matter of time?_ ” he repeated.

She looked at him and shrugged, “they’re not going to find you.”

“Shiloh, the island isn’t that big –”

“I know,” she cut him off, “but it’s not like there’s a sign at the dock that says ‘Tom Hiddleston, this way,’ right? We’re isolated up here on the hill, that’s why I bought this house in the first place.”

“What about down town?”

She bit her lip, “I’ll do the grocery shopping. We can keep our walks here on the beach, or up on the hill. Nobody’s gonna take any pictures of  _me_.” He watched her, she was so confident and optimistic now, he smirked. She smiled at his grin and made to turn back to her book. Before immersing herself back into the paperback, she added, “it’s not like we haven’t already been playing  _house_ , right?” she giggled.

The next morning, Tom opened the door in his favorite blue t-shirt and jeans, to see Richard bringing them the mail. The old man smiled at him, handing him the small stack of envelopes, then reached back into the bag that was slung across his shoulders and pulled out something else.

“Saw this when I was on the mainland earlier this morning,” he said as he handed Tom the thin magazine, then added, “thought you’d wanna see it.”

Tom glanced down and realized it was a folded copy of the latest edition of  _The Mirror_. He looked back at Richard, thanked him, and watched him turn to leave. He waited a moment before closing the door, glancing around the landscape that was in front of him. The ocean and the beach to his right, the tiny cottage he had originally been staying in off to his left. The rolling hills and tree tops that led towards town were far beyond. He closed the door and brought the mail and magazine into the kitchen, where Shiloh was fixing eggs.

Tom plopped the rest of the mail on the counter and opened the folded magazine, then gaped at the cover image. It was a black and white photo of him and Shiloh, linked hand in hand, walking along their beach, with Barley running through the water behind them. It looked like the photo had been taken at a long range, but he couldn’t be sure. Underneath the photo, in large black letters, the caption read; _Hiddleston Finds Love on Secluded Island._

_That’s a bit more than just a ‘blurb,’_  he thought to himself. He threw the magazine on the counter, and Shiloh turned to look at him, “what’s wrong?” she asked. He pointed at the magazine, and she stepped away from the frying eggs to look at the cover photo and caption. She stepped back from it and looked at him, worry creases deep in her brow, “how did they get that photo?”

Tom shrugged. He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed Luke’s number. Shiloh turned back to the stove and turned the burner off, leaving the half-cooked eggs in the pan, and followed Tom as he stormed into the living room.

“Luke, it’s Tom,” he said as she watched. He began to pace around the room. Shiloh sat on the couch, watching him, and Barley jumped up to sit next to her. She couldn’t hear what Luke was saying on the other end of the conversation, but whatever it was, it wasn’t improving Tom’s mood.

“What do you mean  _they can take photos of whatever they want?_  What happened to our  _privacy_?”

She watched him, her fingers going to her lip and idly picking the skin. Tom continued to pace as he listened to whatever Luke was telling him. He swore loudly, told Luke he would call him back, then quickly hung up and tossed the phone on the coffee table.

“What did he say?” she asked.

Tom flopped into the chair across from her and put his face in his hands, sighing irritably, “he said that the beach is public property, and paparazzi can take pictures of whatever and  _whoever_  they want to.”

“They were  _there_ , on the beach?”

He shook his head and looked up at her, “no, it was some long-range lens.”

She sat back in her seat, “so…now the beach is off limits too,” she said quietly.

Tom looked furious, “there’s more,” he started, and she looked at him quickly. He nodded with an indignant smirk, “they name you, in the article.”

“What?” she exclaimed.

He nodded, running his hands through his hair, “I don’t know  _how_  they got your name. Someone in town must have talked. Luke said they knew all about you and who you were,  _and_  about the attack in 2001.”

She looked like she was going to be sick, “oh Tom,” she gasped, horrified.

“I know,” he muttered angrily.  
Shiloh covered her mouth with the hand that had been picking her lip. She sat for a moment, staring blankly at Tom as he glared at the floor in frustration. Suddenly, she got up, and walked back into the kitchen, as Tom watched her.

He walked into the kitchen after her, to find her leaning against the counter, quietly crying to herself. He went to her, she leaned her face into his chest as he put his arms around her, rubbing her back as she sobbed. She clutched at him, gasping for air, until she was finally able to contain herself and catch her breath. He led her into the dining room, one arm around her shoulders, then out onto the back porch. The lights he had hung weeks earlier were still hanging, but they had been unplugged ages ago. Tom brought her to the railing, and she looked up at him, wiping tears from her face.

“Look,” he said, motioning to the view in front of them. The landscape looked the same, her view from the deck hadn’t changed, the ocean was visible in the distance, and the sun was shining brightly over the trees as they danced in the breeze.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, sniffing.

“Exactly,” he said, smiling down at her, “we’re alone up here, this is still  _our_  home.”

She smiled when he said ‘ _our_  home,’ but she shook her head, “just because we can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not out there, waiting for us.”

He rubbed her back and sighed, he didn’t know what to say. They stood like that for a few minutes, leaning on the railing and feeling the warm breeze through their hair. After another minute, Shiloh pulled out of his embrace and went to one of the chairs. He turned and watched her from where he stood. She sat down and folded her hands in her lap, “this was inevitable,” she said numbly, not looking at anything in particular. She sighed, then continued, “we would be dealing with this sooner or later, right?” she looked up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded, “probably.”

She nodded, “so it’s something to get used to.”

He nodded again and crossed his arms in front of him. Whether it was something that he was used to or not, he didn’t like the idea of Shiloh being subjected to the same treatment that he had been. He hadn’t given it much thought before because he’d been immersed in the sheltered beauty of the island. Now that the life he had left behind was suddenly thrust back into his face, his two worlds were colliding, and he could do nothing to stop it.

“Shi, I don’t want you to worry about this,” he started, but she just smirked at him.

“You and I both know, that that is  _not_  an option,” she said with a wry laugh, “I want to be  _with_  you Tom,” she got up from her chair and stepped towards him, “and if that means that I have to get used to being photographed everywhere we go,” she sighed and glanced around, then flashed him an uncertain smile, “then that’s what I’ll do.”

**~*~**

It was another week before Tom decided that he had no other option than to go back to London. He had been on the phone with Luke practically every day since the article in _The Mirror_  had been published. Luke was being inundated with calls requesting interviews from Tom, and after much discussion with his agent, and Shiloh, he had decided that going to London and putting a cap on this fiasco was the best choice he had.

He had made arrangements to spend three days in the city. Shiloh was glum for the few days before he left, even though she knew it was just a short trip. He reassured her countless times that he would be coming back to the island to finish the remaining month of his holiday, and that they would get back to what they had had before. He hated to acknowledge the tabloid rumors and give them even more of a reason to talk about the two of them, but Luke had had a point when he had told him;  _a sound bite does more than denial, or refusing to comment._

The night before his flight, they made love in her bed. He had tried to set the mood with a few candles and some soft music, but he had still had a hard time coaxing her out of her moodiness. When she had finally responded to his touch, they had rolled around in the sheets, moaning and writhing as they joined together in their mutual ecstasy. Afterward, she laid next to him quietly, listening to his heartbeat.

“Shi?” he asked the dim light, not sure if she was asleep or not.

“Yea?” she responded quietly.

“Do you still love me?”

She sat up and turned to look at him, eyes narrowed, “what kind of question is that?”

He smirked, but still shifted nervously, “I,” he stuttered, “I mean…I  _did_  just come into your life, rattle everything around, and now I’ve got you plastered all over the tabloids.”

She sighed heavily and placed a hand on his bare chest. She stared at it while she played with the few chest hairs he had, then she took a deep breath, “however you might have ‘rattled’ my life, Tom, I wouldn’t change any part of it.” She locked eyes with him in the dim candlelight, “of course I still love you,” she said firmly.

**~*~**

Shiloh persuaded Tom that she would be fine, as he got ready to go the next morning, “Richard will be here soon with the mail,” she smiled. She had opted to stay at the house instead of seeing him off at the dock. He reassured her that he understood why, and didn’t hold it against her. He could see her forcing the smile, “so don’t worry,” she added quickly. He had stood in the doorway as she kissed him goodbye, promising that she would call him in a few hours when his flight was scheduled to land. He begrudgingly turned and got into his car and started to drive away.

She had watched him from the front window as he drove away. She had stood there, watching his car for as long as she could see it. When it disappeared around the farthest bend and she knew he would be no longer visible, she turned and wandered towards the kitchen.

She had felt uneasy since seeing the article in  _The Mirror,_  but she had told herself over and over that this would be something she had to adjust to.  _This is part of your life now, living in his spotlight,_ she told herself _, things are different now, just because he’s in the public eye, it doesn’t mean the two of you can’t be happy._  She rubbed her arms vaguely as she waited for the tea kettle to whistle.

She leaned against the counter, gazing down at the floor in an anxious haze, and heard Barley in the living room. He brought her out of her trance, and she stepped out of the kitchen to see what he was doing. The dog had been lying in his spot on the couch when she’d gone into the kitchen, but now he was standing near the front door, staring at it expectantly. She hadn’t heard a car in the driveway, but she  _had_  been in the kitchen,  _maybe Tom forgot something_ , she thought.

She shooed the dog back and went to the door, opening it with a happy smile, even though he’d only been gone a few minutes. “What did you for—” she was cut off in mid-sentence by what she saw in front of her. It wasn’t Tom who had arrived at her door, he hadn’t come back to whisk her away or declare his refusal to ever leave her. Instead, the face that had haunted her dreams for so many years, was now staring back at her, as hideous and ragged as it had been thirteen years ago.

Albert Jonas punched Shiloh so quickly, she didn’t have a chance to scream. He hit her again, a devastating blow to the stomach, and she fell to the floor in a gasping heap. She felt the cold wood against her cheek as she lay there, and heard Barley barking savagely as he bounded towards Jonas. There was a shrill yelp, a slam of the door, and then Shiloh saw Jonas coming at her and she screamed with every breath she had left.

**~*~**

Tom’s flight to London was uneventful; he soared through Shiloh’s copy of Invisible Monsters, which he had still been reading, in between spending time with her, and learning the script for High Rise. Once he had disembarked, feeling more annoyed than tired, he wandered through the bustling airport with his ball cap sitting low over his face. He stopped for a moment when he saw a small souvenir shop, and wandered towards it. He stepped through the tiny rows of knick knacks, then stopped when he saw what he’d been looking for. A small set of two miniature Big Ben’s, one was for salt, the other for pepper. He didn’t remember seeing a set like this in Shiloh’s cabinet, so he promptly picked the box up, paid for it, and was carrying it in a gift bag through the airport when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He had expected it to be Shiloh calling him, but was surprised to see it was Ben. He answered the call and put the phone to his ear as he walked, “Ben, how are you? Where are you?”

“I’m fine ol’ chap,” his friend chuckled. “I’m in Buckinghamshire, working on _Imitation Game_  with Keira and Mark, I heard you’re gonna be in London for a few days, you’re not cutting your holiday short, are you?”

“No, just trying to tame this sordid business the tabloids have gotten me into. Did you hear about any of it?”

Ben sighed, “I did, sorry to say. How’s Shiloh taking it? You said she’s rather antsy about that sort of thing?”

“She is, but I think she’ll be alright. I’m just here for a few days to do a quick interview and ask for my privacy.”

Ben laughed, “you mean  _beg_  for it, don’t you?”

Tom snickered, “thanks Benny. What are you doing tomorrow? Fancy a quick cup of tea?”

“I could probably pencil you in,” he teased.

They made their plans to meet up the next day, and Tom hung up. He was about to head down to where the driver from the agency would be waiting for him, when he stopped and stepped off to the side to get out of the way of everyone else. He dialed Shiloh’s number and waited as it rang. He glanced down at his watch, _it’s been three hours since I’ve kissed her,_  he thought bitterly. His call went to voice mail, but he hung up instead of leaving a message.  _She’s probably in the loo_ , he told himself,  _she knew his flight landed around this time._  He waited another minute, watching people buzz by from under his hat, then tried her number again. This time, it was answered.

“Darling, I miss you already,” he said happily, smiling into the phone even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

“Tom,” it wasn’t Shiloh’s voice, it sounded like Richard.

“Richard?” Tom asked, “where’s Shiloh?”

“Tom,” Richard repeated severely, “there’s been,” the old man stammered, “there’s been an accident.”

“ _What_?” Tom’s voice rang louder than he had meant it to. A few people turned to glare at him as they passed by. He took no notice, “what happened?” he asked franticly.

Richard was quiet for a moment, and Tom felt his heart thump up into his throat, he thought he might be sick. Then the old man finally answered him, “Shiloh’s been attacked. They’re flying her to Aberdeen Royal, taking her by emergency flight. Phyllis and I are on our way there now, we’ve got to call her family.”

“Aberdeen Royal,” Tom repeated numbly.

“Can you get there?”

He started to nod, he felt frozen and numb, then realized Richard couldn’t see him nodding, and stuttered, “y-yes, I’ll get there as fast as I can. Richard?” Richard grunted into the phone. Tom’s lip quivered, “how-how bad…” he trailed off, he didn’t know how to finish.

Richard sounded close to tears, “bad, Tom… _bad_.”


	11. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being attacked, Shiloh is brought to the hospital, where Tom meets their friends to find out what happened. Her younger sister Peyton comes to be by her side, and clashes with Tom, but he is determined to be there for his love in her greatest time of need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: brief mention of animal violence, and miscarriage

The world whizzed by in a blur as Tom walked down the hallway. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten to the hospital, but he was being led past dozens of people, all of whom had no faces. He glanced around, looking for a familiar face, for  _any_  face, but nothing looked right. There was a hum of chatter and noise around him, pounding in his ears, threatening to implode his skull, but he kept walking. Finally, the person who had been guiding him; he wasn’t sure if she had a name or a face, turned a corner and ushered him into a room.

It was there, that he saw two faces he  _did_  know. A pale looking Richard, and a pink-faced Phyllis were sitting in chairs, huddled together in the corner. They took one look at Tom, and suddenly everything came rushing back to him.

He remembered listening to Richard, back at the airport, but it felt like an old movie playing in his mind. He had hung up, turned around and walked back through the airport, found a ticket counter and ordered a ticket to Scotland. It had felt like someone else had been operating his arms and legs, using him like a puppet.

He didn’t remember the flight, it had been short, but it was gone from his consciousness. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten to the hospital, but a short, blurry vision of the back seat of a taxi whizzed through his memory, and he realized that somehow, he had made it here.

Richard stood up and walked towards him. Tom’s face felt numb, petrified. If he tried to speak or even open his mouth, it felt like his face would crack into thousands of pieces, then the rest of his body would shatter and his two friends would be standing there with nothing but a pile of broken glass in front of them.

Richard put his arms around him, thumping him on the back bleakly. Tom didn’t hug him back, he had forgotten how. Phyllis hugged him after Richard was done, she was so much shorter, her face only just coming up to Tom’s chest, but he just stood there, watching them. His eyes stung, he wasn’t sure if he was crying, or if he’d been crying the entire way there. He wasn’t sure if he could even blink.

“Tom,” Richard’s voice echoed through him and resounded inside his skull. He wanted to tell Richard to be quiet, if he spoke too loud the sound might crack him and he would shatter, but his throat was dry and he’d forgotten how to use it.

“ _Tom_ ,” Richard repeated. Tom’s eyes snapped back into reality, and he looked at Richard blankly. The old man looked scared, worried, and Phyllis was a puddle of tears next to the two of them.

“W–” Tom started, his voice coming back to him. It sounded foreign to him, someone else’s voice coming out of his mouth, “where is she?” was all he could manage.

Richard looked like he might cry, but the old man inhaled deeply and led Tom to the chairs with a shaking hand. Once they’d gotten him to sit, Richard and Phyllis sat on either side of him. Phyllis took one of his hands in hers, but Tom could barely feel it.

“She’s in surgery now,” Richard said in a low, raspy voice.

Tom turned to look at him, “surgery?” he repeated in a whisper. The room spun in front of him and he found himself clinging to the arms of the chair he sat in. _She’s alive,_  he thought, his mind felt like it was slowly clicking back into gear after the engine had stalled. Then that voice in his head scolded him,  _of course she’s alive, she’s strong. She’s so strong._

Richard nodded. Tom’s blurred vision started to focus, and he realized he was blinking away tears that streamed down his cheeks. He put a shaking hand over his mouth, looking from Richard, then to Phyllis, then the tears overcame him and he buried his face in his hands. He leaned forward in his chair, he felt someone rubbing his back but he wasn’t sure who. The sobs fell from him in waves, his whole body shook. He thought he might vomit.

“The doctor said it might be a few hours,” Phyllis said quietly, her usually cheery voice was gone, replaced by a hollow rasp, “we’ve been here at least two hours already.”

Tom sat back in his chair and gasped for air. He looked from Phyllis, then to Richard, as they watched him. He took as deep a breath as he was able, his lip shaking uncontrollably, “Richard, what…” his lip quaked and another wave of tears washed over him.

Richard looked down at the floor, he was doing his best to keep himself reserved. Even through his own tears though, Tom could see it was hard for the old man to not break down. “I went to deliver the mail,” he started, his voice ragged. Tom ran his hands over his face roughly, trying to rub some feeling into his numb skin. He saw stars for a moment, then looked back at Richard, who continued solemnly. “The door was open, I thought that was strange,” he coughed, “I called her name but she didn’t answer. Then I saw B-Barley on the floor,” he quietly cried, covering his mouth and struggling for a breath, “he was already dead. There was blood everywhere.” Phyllis made a wheezing sound from Tom’s other side as Richard continued, “th-there was a trail of blood going into the kitchen…”

In Tom’s head, a voice was screaming for Richard to stop. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but he couldn’t look away as the old man spoke, his eyes so wide they felt like they might pop out of their sockets, as he imagined everything Richard described. “I-I opened the kitchen door,” he stuttered as tears fell from his eyes, “that  _bastard_. That  _fucking bastard,_ ” it felt strange to hear Richard curse, but Tom barely took notice of it. “H-he was on the floor, the tea kettle was near him.” He took a shaky breath, “he was bleeding all over the place, there was a knife…sticking out of his chest.”

Tom ran his hand over his face again, rubbing hard as his tears lubricated his skin. He sat back and tried to catch his breath, but his lip wouldn’t stop shaking. He gasped for air, “and… _Shiloh_?” he asked.

Richard looked up at him, his eyes pink and puffy, he smirked painfully, “she was crawling through the dining room door,” he sobbed. He took a breath, “she screamed when I got to her,” he broke down, covering his face with his hands.

Tom leaned forward and put a hand on Richard’s arm. He wanted to thank him, for being there when he wasn’t, but he couldn’t form the words.

“They air-lifted her here, straight from the island,” Phyllis said stiffly. Tom had almost forgotten she was still sitting next to him. He turned to her and saw her teary eyes staring back at him, like he’d never seen them before, “the hospital on Burray isn’t equipped for that kind of emergency, I guess,” she shrugged. Tom felt himself put an arm around her shoulders as she began to cry again.

The three of them sat in the quiet waiting room for what felt like an eternity, before anyone came in to speak to them. First it was a nurse, alerting them that Shiloh had come out of surgery, and that the surgeon would be in soon to speak with them. Tom’s heart fluttered dangerously in his chest, pounding against his ribs as they waited. Richard sat with Phyllis while Tom paced back and forth, until suddenly a young Indian man came in, wearing a doctor’s coat and scrubs, and looking tired.

“Are you the family of Miss Winters?” he asked.

Richard and Phyllis both rose from their seats quickly, and Tom rushed over. The three of them, pale faced with worry, faced the doctor, “her family is on their way,” Richard said gruffly.

“She’s like a daughter to us,” Phyllis added in a shaky voice.

The doctor glanced at Tom, who felt helpless, unable to speak for a moment. Richard put a hand on his shoulder and said to the doctor, “this is her fiancé, Tom.”

The doctor nodded briskly and took a breath, “Miss Winters has made it out of surgery. She lost a lot of blood,” he looked from Tom, to Richard, then to Phyllis, “there was damage to her liver, we had to remove part of it. We also had to take her gall bladder. There were also numerous lacerations on her arms, but no major arteries were cut.”

He looked happy about that, but Tom found it hard to find that as a happy thought. “Is she awake?” he blurted out.

The doctor shook his head, “no, she’ll be out for a few more hours.”

“Will she recover, doctor?” Richard asked. Tom was thankful that the old man seemed to be able to read his thoughts, since his own mouth and brain felt disconnected.

The doctor nodded, “we were able to save the majority of her liver, and she can live a perfectly normal life without the section we took.” He looked from the older pair, to Tom, and his face changed. The satisfied, reassuringly uplifting expression he had just been wearing quickly disappeared when he caught Tom’s eyes. “Tom, may I speak with you for a moment?” he asked soberly. Tom followed him to the other side of the room, while Phyllis and Richard went back to sit down in the corner.

The doctor stepped closer to him, with a stern, anxious, but determined look on his face, “you are Miss Winter’s fiancé?”

In his whirl of emotions, the question only confused and befuddled him more, “yes?” he heard himself croak.

“And the two of you were sexually active?” he asked in a low tone.

Tom felt his raw and tired face twist in a confused gawk, “yes, why?”

“Were the two of you monogamous?”

The questions were making him feel light headed, but also annoyed, “of course we were,” he said flatly.

The doctor’s face changed again, his brows creased despairingly, and he lowered his voice even more, “were you aware that Miss Winters was four weeks pregnant?”

Tom’s eyes bulged and the room began to spin again. He continued to stare at the doctor, but he didn’t really see him anymore. Flashes of Shiloh flickered in front of his eyes; her smiling at him on the back porch, her giggling with him while he tickled her in bed, her throwing a stick to Barley as they walked along the beach, her sitting in the sand at Billy’s birthday party.

“ _Pregnant_?” he gasped, he could hardly hear his own voice. Then the doctors words came back to him,  _he said ‘was,’_  he thought, _as in, not anymore._

The doctor nodded, “the embryo was too small to survive that much blood loss. The body had to protect itself first, and I’m afraid the baby was lost due to the trauma.” Tom reeled within himself. He felt dizzy, and the doctor took his arm. Suddenly Richard was on his other arm, and the two men were helping him into a nearby chair. “I’m sorry,” the doctor said, from what sounded like the other end of a tunnel. Phyllis came over and sat next to Tom and began to wave a hand in front of him, in an attempt to get him some air. Tom’s head felt as heavy as lead, he lowered his forehead into his hands and leaned forward in his seat. He mumbled something about feeling sick, and just as Richard brought a rubbish bin over to him, he grabbed it vomited into it.

“Miss Winters will have a room soon, a nurse will come get you when you can see her,” the doctor added, watching the three of them. Then he added, “she should be awake in a few hours. She’ll be in and out for a while though, she’s been through a lot,” then he turned and left the room.

**~*~**

Tom wasn’t sure how long they waited, but he felt like time was moving so slow that they might as well have been travelling backwards. Soon a friendly-looking nurse came in, and he, Phyllis, and Richard, were led down a few hallways and into a private room. It was dark, the only light in the room coming from a fluorescent lamp above the bed. When Tom looked at the bed, he balked at the person laying there. She didn’t look anything like the Shiloh he knew.  _This_ Shiloh wasn’t smirking at him, or reading a book, or having a glass of wine and laughing,  _this_  Shiloh was so small and frail-looking, connected to tubes and wires, dressed in a hospital gown and tucked tightly into the bed. She was so pale she looked ghostly.

Phyllis stopped at the end of the bed near Shiloh’s feet, and brought a shaking hand to her mouth. Richard stopped behind her, also gawking at the sight of their friend lying before them. Tom stepped past the two of them, closer to his unconscious love, and felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.  _Look what he’s done to her,_  he felt himself think. Without thinking about it, he fell into the empty chair beside her bed.

After a few minutes, Richard pulled another chair over for Phyllis to sit in, and she sat down next to Tom. The older woman gently touched Shiloh’s hand, as it lay there on the bed, slack and open. Phyllis held Shiloh’s fingers in both of her hands, gently squeezing it for a moment. Tom could see tears brimming from the crinkled eyes of the usually happy older woman. She picked his own hand up off of his leg, and put it on the bed next to Shiloh’s, then put Shiloh’s hand in his palm. It felt surreal, once again being connected to that skin, the skin he had kissed and touched only hours ago. Her hand was heavy when he felt it, and she didn’t respond to his squeeze, even though he hoped she might have sensed his touch and responded.

They sat there, in the dim light, in stunned silence, as the machines beeped and whirred next to Shiloh’s bed. He looked at her; he had been afraid to look at her face, partly afraid she would be staring back at him, he didn’t think he was prepared to look into those eyes. She wasn’t looking at him though, she remained silent and still as the three of them held their vigil around her. Tom found himself lost in a loop of thoughts that kept fluttering through his mind. He couldn’t shake the idea that if he had only delayed his flight by a day, he might have been able to stop all of this.

Richard grumbled something that Tom didn’t hear, but Phyllis nodded to him, then she looked over at Tom. Richard left the room, and Phyllis gently patted Tom on the knee. His eyes stung, his throat was raw. His brain felt like it was on a separate wavelength from the rest of his body, he had forgotten how to connect the two.

Phyllis cleared her throat and cut through the silence, reverberating through his skull. He almost jumped, quickly glancing at Shiloh to see if she had been woken up, “she’s going to be alright, dear,” the older woman smiled softly.

Tom looked from the slumbering Shiloh, to Phyllis, his eyes wide. His lip began to shake, he felt the tears again, stinging behind his already aching eyes. He struggled for a moment, “how can you be sure?”

Phyllis’ smile grew more resilient, “because she’s a fighter, she’s  _strong_ …and you gave her something to live for.”

He felt the salty streams begin to carve tracks down his cheeks, “she looks,” he turned to look at Shiloh, small and broken, lying in the bed, “so fragile,” he breathed.

He felt Phyllis’ hand on his shoulder now, gently squeezing him through his sweater. He turned back to her and she smiled sympathetically, “she will need you to be her rock, for a while,” she grinned, “she will need to crash against you…like the waves.”

“I-I worry…she won’t wake up,” his voice felt small and afraid, the thought had fallen from him unexpectedly, it sounded even worse out loud than it had in his head.

Phyllis shook her head, “she’ll wake up,” she sounded so confident, “she’ll want to know what’s going on.”

He looked back at Shiloh, her lifeless hand still gripped within his own. He let her hand lie lightly on the blankets beside her body as leaned forward and put his elbows on the edge of the bed. He put his face in his hands and rubbed hard, then sat back and looked at Phyllis, “I’m going to have to tell her something, and I don’t know  _how_  to…” he trailed off.

Phyllis’ face didn’t change, but she continued to watch him, “is that what the doctor was talking to you about?” He nodded numbly, and Phyllis continued to watch him, “was…” the older woman’s voice was small, less resolute than she had been a moment ago, “was Shiloh…pregnant?”

He gaped at her, then blinked away at fresh tears, “how did you know?”

Phyllis smiled a shaky, unsure smile, looking past Tom, at the sleeping Shiloh, “she’s been… _different_ , lately.” He watched her, not sure if he was glad that she had guessed it, or shocked, but Phyllis just continued on, “she changed the moment the two of you came together. She became a whole ‘nother woman,” she chuckled briefly. “Shiloh was always  _reserved_. She wasn’t necessarily _depressed_ , but she was…withdrawn. But for the last few weeks, when the two of you became so close…when I  _did_  see her,” she smirked at him, and he felt his numb lips grin slightly, “she was brighter. She looked…more  _alive_ ,” she added.

The two of them remained there, Tom wanted to talk more, part of him thought that if the unconscious Shiloh heard their familiar voices, maybe she would wake up faster. Instead, both of them tired from stress and worry, they sat in mostly silence, Phyllis even leaned her head back in her chair and closed her eyes for a few minutes. In the darkness and stillness of the room, Tom glanced down at his watch, even though he wasn’t sure why. It was extremely late, the hospital’s visiting hours had to be long over by now, but nobody had come in and asked them to leave. He wondered where Richard had gone, but when there was suddenly a loud set of footsteps from the hallway, and the door to Shiloh’s room flew open abruptly, both he and Phyllis jumped.

A woman came storming into the room, followed by an uncomfortable-looking Richard. The woman looked so much like Shiloh it startled Tom, he did a double-take to make sure that Shiloh was still in the bed. He and Phyllis stood up quickly and turned towards the woman. Phyllis started to extend her arms towards the younger woman, but she didn’t reciprocate. Instead, she turned to look behind her and Richard, where two hospital security guards had come into the room after them. The woman pointed accusingly towards Tom, and, speaking to the guards, said firmly and loudly, “I want  _this_  man out of here! He is  _not_  my sister’s fiancé, he is the reason she was attacked!”

“Peyton!” Phyllis gasped. Tom felt odd, that surreal feeling of being outside his own body swept over him again, it felt hard to stand.  _First the shock of hearing about the attack, then the absurdity of seeing Shiloh as she was, and now being accused by her sister?_

Peyton ignored Phyllis, the guards stepped further into the room, and she pointed towards Tom again, shaking her finger at him. Tom put his hands up in front of himself, unconsciously stepping in front of the comatose Shiloh. Peyton continued shrilly, “he lied about being her fiancé. If it wasn’t for him, that crazy fucker wouldn’t have known where to find Shiloh!” Peyton cried, her eyes full of angry tears. Tom put a hand on Phyllis’ shoulder, she glanced up at him, but he just shook his head slightly. He began to step around the older woman and their chairs, he meant to step past the younger sister and towards the door, but a small, raspy sound caused him to stop in mid-step.

“Tom,” Shiloh gasped. He turned back to her, she hadn’t moved an inch, but her eyes were open suddenly, even though he knew they had been closed a moment ago. She looked dopey, drugged to help with the pain after surgery, but her brown eyes fell upon him firmly.

He forgot all about the security guards and Peyton demanding he be removed from the room. He spun around and was back at her side before anyone could stop him. Peyton seemed to forget about having Tom removed as well, when she saw that he sister was awake, she rushed around the other side of the bed and put her hand on Shiloh’s shoulder.

Tom took Shiloh’s hand in his own and knelt down to be closer to her. Her eyes followed him, but she was slow, delayed in the haze of pain killers and lingering anesthesia. “Shiloh,” he felt tears again, his voice hardly above a whisper.

She looked through heavily lidded eyes at him, turning her head slightly on the pillow. Peyton gripped her sister’s shoulder and took her other hand, and Shiloh slowly realized that she was also standing over her. She turned sluggishly and looked surprised to see her little sister, “what happened?” she asked, bewildered.

Tom felt his aching face stretch into a stressed grin, and when Shiloh turned back to him, she tried to smile back, but it looked pained and detached. His lips shook as he tried to hold back the fiery tears, “darling, you’re in the hospital, in Aberdeen.”

Shiloh’s sluggish eyes widened, she looked blankly at him for a moment, and then he saw the realization on her face. He could almost see the memories come back to her. Tears started to fall, but she still looked numb and bewildered, “he was  _there_ ,” she gasped, her lips trembling, “on the island.” Tom nodded, squeezing her hand tighter, he reached a hand up to gently sweep a few strands of hair from her face. She gripped his hand back, holding it tightly.

“Shiloh,” Peyton’s voice was hushed, the anger she had barged into the room with still lingering there, but now that she was more focused on her sister, she lowered her voice and bent closer. Shiloh turned back to her and smiled a shaky, small smile. “Do you remember what happened?” Peyton asked.

Shiloh’s smile disappeared, her chin quivered, then she slowly shook her head, “not really,” she said in a tiny voice.

“That’s alright,” Tom said quickly, squeezing her hand. She turned back to him, her eyes sagging. It looked like each blink was hard for her to manage. She looked frustrated, but too tired to do anything about it. He did his best to put a reassuring smile on his face as he gazed down at her, “if you need to sleep darling, close your eyes. We will be here when you wake up.”

She began to cry, he tried to shush her, but his own tears were threatening to overtake him. She gasped and struggled to take a deep breath, wincing in pain. Then, through her tears, she managed weakly, “I’m afraid to.”

Tom saw Peyton’s hands clutch Shiloh’s arm, she was crying quietly on the other side of the bed, but he didn’t have time to look over at her. He ran his hand gently over the side of Shiloh’s face, his fingers trailing softly down her cheek, wiping away at her tears, “he can’t hurt you anymore sweetheart, you made sure of that.”

She watched him for another moment, tears still falling freely, but then her face relaxed, and her eyes fluttered shut. She was silent again, and her breathing slowed and relaxed. When he was sure she was asleep, Tom glanced at Peyton, who looked back at him quickly, then he turned as someone else entered the room.

It was Shiloh’s doctor, he looked staggered by how many people were in the room, “you two,” he motioned to the security guards by the door, “out.” He turned towards Richard, Phyllis, Peyton, and Tom, “there shouldn’t be too many people in the room, Miss Winters needs her rest.”

“She woke up, doctor,” Phyllis sounded scared. The doctor looked at her, then stepped past her and came to the edge of Shiloh’s bed. Tom begrudgingly let go of her hand as the doctor shoved between them, he took a step back to let the doctor look her over.

When he had finished checking her, he turned around to address the rest of them, “her vitals are good. She will probably be groggy for the next several hours, but her waking up is a good sign.”

“Will she wake up again?” Peyton asked, worried.

The doctor nodded, “she will, but she needs to rest.”

He left with the security guards, and Tom fell back into his chair, exhausted. He reached over and put his hand on Shiloh’s arm, feeling the need to be connected to her in some way. He stared off into the distance as Phyllis and Richard looked at each other.

“Peyton,” Phyllis said quietly, extending an arm out towards the young woman, “why don’t you walk us out?” Tom glanced anxiously up at the older woman, he didn’t want her to leave. He had gotten used to her comfort here in this small, dim room. She looked back down at him and smiled, patting his arm as he made to stand, “you stay, Tom. She needs you by her side. And she needs you and Peyton to be here when she wakes up,” she smiled kindly.

Tom sat back in his chair, he watched as Peyton was pulled along with Phyllis and Richard as they left. Once the door was closed after them, then he looked back at Shiloh. Her head was turned towards him, but she was quietly sleeping, the drugs and horror of the past day had taken her away from him.  _But she’s going to be all right,_  he told himself. He felt his face twist in grief and he buried it in his hands, leaning forward in his chair. He let the sobs overcome him in the darkness as he sat beside her.

**~*~**

Peyton walked quietly along with Phyllis and Richard as they made their way towards the waiting room on Shiloh’s floor. Richard had been quiet since she had arrived at the hospital and found him, now the only words he would say were so low and quick, she still could barely hear them. He muttered something to Phyllis and the old woman nodded, then she guided Peyton towards the empty waiting area while he continued on toward the elevators.

Phyllis sat, but Peyton didn’t feel like sitting down. She crossed her arms in front of her, not sure if she was angry or worried, but either way she didn’t think she could sit still if she wanted to.

The older woman smiled up at her, patting the chair next to her. When Peyton didn’t sit down, she just smiled confidently at her and nodded, “sweet heart, your sister will be alright.”

Peyton wiped away at a rogue tear, “you  _know_  that, do you?” she asked sarcastically, her frustration getting the best of her.

Phyllis sighed; she looked haggard, but she was doing her best to keep her worries and tears to herself, trying to be strong for the younger ones, “you haven’t seen her recently.”

Peyton glared at her, color rising in her cheeks, she swallowed her fury, “ _so_?”

Phyllis chuckled quietly to herself, “you haven’t seen the change in her.”

“What change?”

“The change that Tom brought about, once the two of them realized what they meant to each other.”

Peyton scowled and looked down at the floor, leaning her back against the wall. Still starring at the floor, she said through gritted teeth, “my sister didn’t  _need_  to change.”

“Oh?” the older woman’s smile faded quickly and she looked up incredulously, “so you were happy with how she was? Content to have her living alone, in that house, always keeping to herself? Letting her life pass her by as she watched….too afraid to do anything about it?”

Peyton turned away from Phyllis, glancing down the hall towards the elevators, where Richard had disappeared to, “she had every right to be the way she was.”

Phyllis nodded, “yes, she suffered. If she wanted to disappear into herself and remain detached from the world, then that was her decision.” She got up out of her chair and stepped closer to Peyton, but Peyton wouldn’t look at her, “but she was deeply unhappy, don’t try an’ tell me you didn’t know that.”

Peyton looked up and the two women locked eyes, Phyllis glared at her fiercely. Peyton smirked, but she was still unconvinced, “so you’re telling me that finding a man solved all her problems?”

Phyllis’ face softened, and shook her head, “oh lord no. She was still her ol’ self; nervous in crowds, anxious around new people, didn’t like to go outside of her normal routine…but Tom…he…” she sighed. She took a moment and Peyton saw her lip shake, then she took a deep breath and continued, “Tom made her feel special, like she  _should_  feel. He brought her back to life. The connection they have, it’s more than just physical. It’s not every day you accidentally meet the person who changes your life.”

**~*~**

The first sound she heard was the chirping of the birds. They were far away and distant, but she could hear them through the open window. When she opened her eyes, she saw how dark it still was outside.  _The sun is just starting to rise,_  she told herself. It felt odd to hear her own voice within her head, as if it was a stranger in there, and they hadn’t been introduced yet. After a few moments, when things slowly came back to her, she realized it was her own voice she was hearing.

Her eyes focused slowly, and she looked around the room. She couldn’t move her body much, not without pain stopping her, but she could turn her head at least. When she did, she saw the lanky, familiar figure slumped in a chair next to her bed. His head was leaning back, his neck at a clearly uncomfortable angle. She felt herself smirk, but she felt oddly disconnected from that smirk. Her body felt like it was just running on auto-pilot, and she had no real control over it. She turned her head slowly, fearful of another sharp pain, but she was thankful there was none. She saw the shape of her sister in another chair, a few feet from her bed, curled with her legs propped up on another chair and her coat spread over herself.

When she turned back towards Tom, he had opened his eyes, and he was watching her. If she had been able to, she would have jumped, but instead she took a strained breath, and smiled anxiously. “Morning,” she whispered. He smiled and leaned forward in his chair, lifting himself up, and closing the distance between them. She lifted her arms slowly and her hands went to his face as he neared her. His lips met hers, and the sensation brought her back into herself. He pulled back and she gasped for air, he leaned his forehead gently against hers and she felt her eyes brimming with tears.

“How do you feel?” he whispered. He pulled back a few inches to see her better, and she let out what felt like a huff, a sob, and a laugh, all at the same time. A sudden, stabbing pain in her chest caught her off guard and she winced. He looked worried, afraid to touch her, looking down at her chest, “are you ok? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and took a slow breath through her nose, as deeply as she was able. She opened her eyes and glanced over at Peyton, who hadn’t stirred. Shiloh looked back at Tom, and smiled weakly, “I’m ok. How are you?” her voice still low.

His brow creased wearily and he smiled, “better, now that you’re awake.”

She smiled, “how long have I been out?”

“Most of the night,” he shifted his weight on his arms and glanced at his watch, then brought his hand up to her face. His fingers felt warm and soft against her skin, she felt like she hadn’t seen or touched him in years. He smiled sweetly as he gently rubbed her cheek, “we were all so worried about you.”

She was reminded, suddenly, of  _why_  they were all so worried. The images came flooding back to her more clearly, flashes of scenes that flickered through her mind like a movie. She felt more tears, but her own questions dominated her thoughts, “Tom…” she started, but she wasn’t sure what to ask first. “Wh-what happened…” before she could form the words, the memory of that harsh yelp sounded painfully loud in her ears, and she stuttered over her tears, “Barley’s dead, isn’t he?”

Tom looked close to tears as well. He pulled his chair quietly closer to her bed, and shifted so he was sitting back down, but leaning onto her bed with his hands on her. He clasped one hand on her arm, then took her other hand in his, nodding gravely, “I’m sorry darling.” He took a breath, watching her closely, “he helped save you, sweetheart.”

She let herself cry, though with the pain in her chest, she did her best to keep her sobs short. She gasped, catching her breath quickly before her chest throbbed sharply again, and swallowed the rest of her tears,

“I-I just remember… _hearing_  him…” she trailed off.

Tom squeezed her hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. He pressed the cool back of her hand against his warm cheek and closed his eyes. She watched him as more tears escaped and trickled down her cheeks. He opened his eyes and looked at her tenderly, “you were so brave,” he whispered.

She shook her head, “no.”

He nodded, “you were. You’re so  _strong_.”

Her lip shook, “I was  _terrified_!” she hissed.

He smirked, “and  _here_  you are, you made it.”

She brought her other hand up and rubbed her eyes, swiping away at her tears and wiping her nose, “I thought he was going to kill me.” Tom was silent; he looked around, his eyes trailing down her as she lay there. He held her hand tightly, scooting closer towards her in his seat. He looked exhausted and disheveled, but she smirked at how charming he still was. The pained look on his face made her anxious, she grimaced, “what?” she asked.

His brow looked heavy, he took a deep breath and she saw his lips shake, “Shi, sweetheart…” tears formed in those piercing eyes as he leaned closer to her.

“What happened?” she asked uneasily.

He reached forward and touched her cheek, “I wanted to be the one to tell you…” he trailed off. He looked her over, then slowly brought his eyes back up to meet hers, “the doctor…he told me something…”

“What?” her voice raspy, strained.

Tom began to cry, his hand loosened on her own, and she moved it to reach for his face. He smiled at her touch, holding her hand against his cheek, and when he opened his eyes again, he looked reserved, numb, “darling, he told me that you were pregnant.”

The words came slowly to her, it took them a moment to sink in. It felt like there was a bubble surrounding her, and she was untouched by the revelation, but only for a moment. When what he had said actually  _did_  penetrate her mind, and she realized what it meant, her eyes unfocused and the room spun.

“ _Were_ ,” she repeated, “past tense,” she said dully.

He let out a quick sob and nodded, nuzzling his face into the palm of her hand. She wanted to pull away, she wanted to stomp around the room and scream, but she could barely move her arms without feeling an immense weight in her chest that sent her spiraling in pain. She watched him from what felt like another world, through eyes that didn’t feel like her own, as he cried quietly and held onto her.


	12. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still recuperating from the attack, Shiloh has a difficult road ahead of her, but Tom is determined to be there by her side no matter what. With her family also by her side, Tom has to figure out how best to deal with the media catching wind of not only his "controversial" new romance, but also with her recent violent attack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of miscarriage, brief animal abuse, and violent physical attack

The rest of that first full day in the hospital proceeded to go by slowly. When Peyton had woken up, Tom had left the two sisters alone together, and made his way to the hospital’s cafeteria to find something to eat. It wasn’t until he took the first bite of an unappetizing sandwich, that he realized just how hungry he really was. He devoured the rest of the sandwich within a few minutes, and downed a bottle of water, before getting a hot cup of coffee to go.

When he got back to Shiloh’s floor, Peyton was sitting outside her room in the hallway. “What’s up?” he asked, confused.

“The doctor is checking her stitches.”

He glanced at the closed door, then switched the coffee cup to his other hand, and took the empty seat next to Peyton. The two of them hadn’t been alone since he’d first met her the night before, and now that he was sitting with her, there was an awkward silence between them.

He sipped at his hot coffee, looking around the empty hallway, “when are your parents coming?”

She didn’t look at him, but turned her head slightly towards him, “they’re gonna be here in an hour or so, their flight was delayed.”

He nodded, sipping the hot liquid again. After another moment, he couldn’t stand the uncomfortable air between them any longer, “I’m sorry, about last night.”

Peyton did look at him then, he felt her eyes on him. He turned to look at her, she had almost the exact eyes as Shiloh, but hers seemed more skeptical, more prepared. Her expression softened and she smiled, such a similar smile to her sisters, it was remarkable, “I didn’t mean to come barging in like that, I was upset.”

“It’s understandable.”

Peyton looked away, sighed, and stared at the wall in front of them. She uncrossed her arms and began to fiddle with her fingers in her lap. Tom took a sip of his coffee, but watched her out of the corner of his eye, then smirked.

“What?” she asked.

He smiled and shook his head, “nothing.”

She looked down at her hands, then crossed her arms in front of herself again. She fidgeted in her seat for another moment, before sighing, visibly frustrated. “Tom,” she started. He looked over at her, but she kept looking at the wall across from where they sat, “I don’t think Shiloh should go back to the island.”

He glanced at the wall she was staring at, then back at her. He took another sip of coffee, then nodded to himself, “I don’t think she’ll want to.” He saw Peyton nod in his peripheral vision, but he just took another sip of coffee, unsure of what else to say.

After another moment of awkward silence, Peyton continued, “I want her to come live with me, in Plymouth. She’ll like it there, it’s near the water.”

He looked at her, lowering his coffee cup to his lap, “Shiloh and I talked about her coming to stay with me in London.”

She glanced at him, fixing her eyes on his shirt collar, not looking him in the eyes, “you really think she would do well, in the city?”

He sighed, exasperated, “I think she’ll need time to adjust, but at least she’ll be closer to any medical care she might need. She’ll be closer to her publisher and her agent,” he wanted to list more reasons, but he was frustrated now, he felt threatened.

Peyton looked up at him, her eyes were big and brown just like her sisters, but they weren’t the warm, mesmerizing eyes he had fallen in love with. She looked at him critically, “you weren’t there, the last time this happened, Tom. You didn’t see what she went through. How low she got.”

He looked away and twitched his thumb over the edge of the coffee cup, “no, I wasn’t there then…but I’m here  _now_. I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to help her come back from this.”

She turned away and sighed quietly, “you really think she can recuperate while living in your spotlight?”

That had surprised him, and he fumbled with his cup for a moment before turning back to her, “who says she’ll be in my spotlight? I don’t want her in  _any_ spotlight.”

She scoffed, “don’t you think it’ll be all over the news, once it gets out that the two of you are dating? That’s if it isn’t out already, I mean, look at what the article in  _The Mirror_  did.”

“What does  _that_  mean?” he asked defensively, remembering what she had said last night.

She furrowed her brow and turned towards him, “I mean that you live in front of the camera. That is your life, right? Shiloh was never comfortable in front of the camera, even  _before_  she was attacked. She never wanted that amount of attention. She wanted to write books and go unnoticed behind the scenes. Can you imagine taking her to a movie premiere? How uncomfortable…how  _terrified_ she would be?”

He tensed at the thought of Shiloh in any more terror than she’d already been. The idea of subjecting her to something like that made his stomach churn, but he and Shiloh had talked about that sort of thing already. When they had gotten serious, when they had fallen in love, and it had taken them both on a whirlwind, he had brought that subject up. They had laughed and joked about going to the premiere of  _High Rise_ , when it was completed, and how she wanted to go, but was nervous at the same time. He had reassured her that she could go and didn’t have to pose for pictures. He knew other actors and people in the business who had spouses who didn’t pose with them in every photo. He knew it could be done, and that had made Shiloh feel better.

“I wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to. She knows that. I only want what’s best for your sister, Peyton, I love her.”

“And that’s beautiful, it really is. It’s wonderful that she found someone like you, Tom,” she sounded sincere, but he still felt uneasy as she spoke, “but I just don’t see how someone like  _her_ , can survive in your kind of….life.” He scrunched his face in annoyance, not sure what sort of response he should have. He didn’t feel comfortable having this conversation without Shiloh. He wanted to hear what she thought, not her sister. Her sister might know her, but she didn’t know her the way he did. While he sat there trying to think of his best defense, Peyton took a deep breath and continued, “did she ever tell you that she tried to kill herself?”

“ _What_?”

She continued to look off into the distance, Tom desperately wanted her to look him in the eye, but she just stared down the hallway, nodding vaguely, “after the first attack,” she said solemnly, “she was on the mend, but she was depressed. She took a bunch of pills.”

He was at a loss for words, he gaped at her. He searched the air in front of him for something to say, but he just sat back in his chair, stunned. He ran an unsteady hand through his hair, “I had no idea.”

Peyton continued to nod. She looked over at him, “we didn’t want her to move to the island because she’d be so far away, but she wanted to be alone. For a long time, I was so worried that I’d get a call from someone saying they’d found my sister in that house, long dead.”

Tom ran his hand over his face and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids. He took a shaky deep breath, then opened his eyes to the stars bursting in front of them. When they had disappeared, he turned to Peyton, “if Shiloh wants to go live with you, then that’s up to her,” he swallowed hard. “If she wants to come live with me,” his voice shook, “then that’s her choice as well.”

Peyton nodded again, and looked back at the wall across from them. The two of them sat there in silence for another few minutes, before the door to Shiloh’s room opened and her doctor and a nurse came out. The nurse was removing her gloves, and turned to walk down the hallway, but the doctor turned to the two of them in their seats, and greeted them with a small smile.

“Good morning,” he said as they both stood up.

Tom shook his hand, trying to shake himself loose of the unsettling conversation he had just had, “how is she doing, doctor?” he asked.

“She’s doing well. Her vitals are good, and her stitches are healing nicely. We just changed her bandages. She is in a bit of pain, changing bandages is never easy. Tom, she asked if you could come in and talk with her, alone.”

Tom glanced at Peyton, who looked affronted, but he thanked the doctor, and stepped past him and went into Shiloh’s room.  
She was laying there, her bed propped up at an angle, looking towards the window, looking heartbreakingly miserable. Tom went to her swiftly, leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple. He felt her tense at his touch. When he had pulled his chair up to the side of her bed, and sat down, she had turned towards him, but she was looking at him with an immeasurably glum expression.

“How are you?” he asked.

“We need to talk,” she said quietly.  
Caught off guard by her abruptness, he fidgeted in his seat, “what’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, struggling to catch it. He reached out and put his hand over hers, she weaved her fingers into his and held them tightly. Her lips began to quiver, and she opened her eyes but didn’t look at him right away. She inhaled slowly again, wiped her eyes, and sighed, “I can’t ever repay you, Tom,” she started.

“You don’t have to repay me for  _anything_ ,” he smiled.

She closed her eyes and put her other hand up, “please.” She was so close to tears, it hurt him to see her so distraught, “please, let me say this,” she begged.

“Ok,” he said quietly.

She glanced at him, but her eyes couldn’t stay on him long. She looked away, down at their hands, where they rested on the mattress. She took another breath and it came out jagged and stuttering as she exhaled. “Tom, you saved me,” she looked over and aimed her eyes at his shoulder, “you brought me back from the edge of an abyss that I was getting sucked into – I can’t ever repay you for that. For making me feel  _human_  again, there’s nothing I can say or do…” she trailed off.

He watched as a tear fell down her cheek. He squeezed her fingers, she looked at him and he smirked nervously, “why does this sound like the beginning of a ‘Dear John’ letter?” he asked.

She scrunched her brows together in the sort of expression that made his stomach do back flips. More tears formed in her chocolate colored eyes as he watched, her lips trembled as she inhaled and tried to continue, “I’m damaged, Tom.”

He shook his head, “no you’re not,” he said firmly.

“You deserve better.”

He scoffed, “says who? Why would I deserve anyone better than the woman who makes me happy, the woman I love?” He felt jittery, queasy from the conversation with Peyton, and now this.

She covered her mouth with her free hand and tried to continue looking him in the eye, but she turned away and started to cry. Shaking her head, “it’s not that simple, Tom,” she managed in between gasps and sobs.

“Shiloh, I  _love_  you, that’s all there is to it. There’s nothing that you can say to change that.”

Her face went slack and she turned back to him. Tears streamed from her eyes, but her face was numb to them. She breathed painfully and looked at him so disheartened, he felt tears starting behind his own eyes. “We had a baby,” she was breathing heavy, “ _had_. We created a tiny life together, and we didn’t even  _know_  it. Now we’ll never get the chance to meet him or her—”

“That’s not  _your_  fault, Shiloh!” Tom felt his voice go shrill, but he wasn’t mad, he was scared. His heart had leapt up into his throat when she had started talking like this. Now he felt close to throwing up, his stomach was in knots. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like he was close to having a stroke, “when you are healed, when you’re feeling better, we can talk about having children. It doesn’t have to happen right now sweetheart.”

“Tom, I’m too  _old_  to be having children, anyway,” she sounded frustrated, angry sobs escaping her as she sputtered.

He sneered, “women are having children into their  _sixties_  these days, you are _not_  too old.”

She laughed in the middle of her tears and yanked her hand from his. He leaned toward her and put his hand on her hip, if she had been able to move away from him and off of the bed, she probably would have.  
She glared at him, hugging her hands to her chest, wincing when she grazed her bandaged wounds, “give me one reason you want to be with me, with everything that’s going on – with all that is  _wrong with_  me. And don’t,” she cut in as he opened his mouth to reply, pointing at him, “ _don’t_  just say ‘because you love me.’ Sometimes love just  _isn’t_  enough, Tom.”

He took a breath, trying to settle himself. He mentally snickered at the nervous energy coursing through him, so similar to the jitters he had felt right before walking up to introduce himself to her on the beach, so many weeks ago. That felt like a lifetime ago, and their time together as friends, and then as lovers, had been a separate life than that one that had come before it.

Now, he looked at her in her tears, her pain, and her pale, frail shape, and his heart ached. He wanted to throw his arms around her like he used to, to come up behind her when she was in the kitchen and wrap his arms around her waist, surprising her. She would giggle and he’d lean his chin on her shoulder, kissing her ear. She would turn towards him and kiss the tip of his nose.

He leaned towards her, his elbows digging into the mattress. He didn’t touch her, but he clasped his hands together in front of himself as he looked at her desperately, “you make me want to be a better person. You make me want to improve myself each and every day. My world became exponentially better when you came into it – you proved to me that there really is a soul mate out there, waiting for every person on this planet,” his voice quivered as he breathed. “The only way I have to try and repay the universe, for giving me _you_ , is to try and be the best man I can be. I want to be that man for you.”

She stared at him. He wasn’t sure if it was horror that he read on her face, or just stunned silence, or possibly a mixture of both. Her big eyes blinked slowly as she watched him for another moment, he felt the tears then. He felt them stream effortlessly down his cheeks, he didn’t care. He watched her, matching her gaze, then she reached out and softly touched his clasped hands. He undid his fingers and took her hand in his.

She looked down at their hands again, more tears falling from her eyes, “I said it before,” she said in a quiet voice, “and I’ll say it again; I’ve  _never_  been in love like this.”

He smirked, meeting her own teary grin, “me neither,” he said quietly.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Peyton poked her head in. She saw them looking at her and came in, shutting the door behind her. She walked over and stood next to where Tom sat, placing her hand on her leg. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

Shiloh smiled, swiping away tears, “better.” Her sister smiled, and Shiloh’s chin trembled again, “how are you?” she asked shakily, her voice wavering.

Peyton looked from Tom’s wet face, to Shiloh’s, then let out a muffled laugh as her own tears began to fall. Tom quickly got out of his chair and offered it to her. She began to cry harder as she sat down and Shiloh grabbed her hand. Peyton covered her face with the back of her hand, as what sounded like  _every_ sob she’d been holding in since the previous day was finally let loose. Shiloh reached towards her as far as she could, but she could only reach up to Peyton’s elbow. Peyton caught her breath, opened her eyes to see her sister struggling to get a hold of her, then she vaulted out of the chair and had her arms around her sister.

Shiloh let out a gasp of pain and Peyton quickly released her, “sorry!” she cried, and Shiloh just smiled.

Tom wandered around to the other side of the bed as the two sisters hugged and cried together. He didn’t want to interrupt them, but Shiloh reached out as she hugged her sister, and found his hand. After they’d both caught their breaths, and wiped their eyes, Peyton sat back in her chair and sighed deeply.

She started to chuckle to herself, as she looked at Shiloh and Tom, “look at the three of us, nothing but tears!” she giggled.

Shiloh smiled, but contained her laugh. Tom chuckled, and gripped Shiloh’s hand tighter as he stood next to her. She grinned up at him,  _it’s so refreshing and encouraging to see that beautiful smile again,_  he thought.

Peyton cleared her throat, “ok, well, I’ve got some news.” Shiloh turned back to her sister, and he watched intently as Peyton continued, “mom and dad will be here in twenty minutes, he just texted me from the taxi. I also talked to a very nice police officer out in the hallway, he wanted to know if you might be up to giving a statement? I told him I would ask, but if you’re not ready Shi, it’s okay.”

Shiloh’s smile faded, even after the news that her parents would be joining them soon. She looked down at her lap, flexing her grip on Tom’s hand absentmindedly, “can it wait?” she asked.

Peyton nodded quickly, “of course it can,” she smiled. “And Tom,” she glanced up at him, “I wanted to say, with Shi awake and feeling a little better…” her grin faltered for a moment, her bottom lip quivered. She searched for the right words, looking at their linked hands, “I’m so  _happy_  for you both,” she sighed contentedly. Shiloh let out a sigh of relief, and Tom laughed out of surprise. Peyton looked up at him, her brow creased in a look of silent understanding, and he nodded back at her. She smiled, then looked back at her sister, “so when mom and dad get here, I thought maybe Tom and I could go back to your house and get some of your stuff.” She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her pocket, “I thought you could make us a list, and we’d be back within a couple of hours.”

Shiloh took the paper and looked over at Tom as he pulled a chair up and sat down near her, “is that okay?” she asked him.

“That sounds fine,” he smiled.

“After you meet mom and dad, of course,” Peyton added, looking at him from the other side of Shiloh’s bed.

Tom smiled wider, a little more relieved, “okay,” he laughed.

Shiloh’s contented demeanor stopped suddenly when she gasped and brought her free hand to her face. Tom and Peyton both looked at her quickly, “what’s wrong?” he asked, worried.

“What about Barley?” she gasped. She looked, wide-eyed from her sister, to her lover, and they exchanged glances.

Peyton shook her head, putting a hand up to calm her sister, “I talked to Richard earlier, he took care of Barley last night.”

Shiloh looked close to tears again, Tom squeezed her hand, covering her fingers with his other hand. “ _Took care_  of him?” She asked nervously.

Peyton nodded solemnly, “he didn’t know what you wanted to do with him, so he took him to the vet. When you decide where you want him buried, or if you want him cremated, we can let them know.”

Shiloh sighed, Tom could hear the shudder in her throat. She looked down at their clasped hands and he smiled softly at her. She looked back towards her sister, but kept her eyes low, not looking Peyton in the face. “What about…the…” she cleared her throat nervously, “the, um…”

“Phyllis took care of the blood,” Peyton said quietly. Shiloh and Tom looked at her, surprised, but she continued, “when Richard called, he told me about the police taking the body away, he told me about Barley, and he said Phyllis and Molly stayed and tried to clean up the mess the best they could.” Shiloh looked like she might start to cry again, but she took a deep breath as Tom rubbed her shoulder gently.

Soon, the sister’s parents arrived, and Tom watched as the older couple came into Shiloh’s room. They both looked to be around Phyllis’ age, with graying hair and numerous laugh lines. Their mother, Agnes, was in tears within the first minute; after hugging Peyton, attempting to hug Shiloh, and then being introduced to Tom. She was a tiny woman, shorter than both her daughters, and Tom towered over her as she wrapped her arms around him. Their father, Dylan, was reserved and quiet as he greeted his daughters, he looked pale with shock. When he was introduced to Tom, he shook his hand firmly, and told him he was glad that Shiloh had someone to be with her through this ordeal.

Tom kept quiet through the majority of the visit, just smiling at the scene of Shiloh with her family. He knew it would have been different if they had been visiting them in Shiloh’s house on the island. If circumstances had been different, and their daughter wasn’t sitting bandaged and stitched-up in a hospital bed, the family reunion would have been a happier one. They wanted to sit with her, make sure she was alright, and Peyton told them of their plans to go back to the island for a few hours. Tom leaned down and kissed Shiloh good-bye, well aware of her parent’s eyes on him as he did so, then Peyton led him out by the arm.

**~*~**

A little over an hour later, after travelling by train to the town of John O’ Groats to catch the ferry to the Burray, Peyton and Tom pulled up to Shiloh’s house and parked in the driveway. It had felt like a long trip, even though it wasn’t a very long distance from Aberdeen to Burray.

Tom didn’t feel comfortable leaving Shiloh, even if she was safe in the hospital with her parents. Peyton must have sensed that about him as they travelled, because she had made it a point to talk with him to try to get to know him, and he felt much more at ease with her now. Since her confession in Shiloh’s hospital room, that she actually was happy for the two of them, they had connected on the train ride, over similar ideals and things they had in common. She seemed less harsh towards him now, much more pleasant and affable.

It struck him how similar she was to her older sister, but how very different the two of them were as well. Peyton was the type to go drinking and take a guy home after having a few beers with him. While she admitted that when they had both been younger, Shiloh had had a bit of a ‘wild side,’ it had never been to the same extent. They hadn’t gotten along for many years, because of the personality clash, but as they had grown older, something had changed within them and they quickly became close. Peyton admitted to feeling the need to protect her older sister, after the attack in 2001, and even though Shiloh had decided to move to a remote island at the tip of Scotland, she had made it a point to move to an area nearby so she could see her sister on a regular basis.

Learning all of this had given Tom a new perspective of Shiloh, he smirked at the things that she had never told him about. True, the month and a half they’d known each other had hardly been enough time to tell each other their life stories, but he enjoyed hearing Peyton’s stories. How Shiloh’s first public poetry reading had been a disaster because she had gotten drunk before going on stage. He had laughed when Peyton told him the story of their first puppy, and how she and Shiloh had accidentally shaved the poor dog, and tried to blame it on a neighborhood boy. He had also been surprised to learn that Shiloh still held onto her collection of Barbie dolls, and that they were packed away somewhere in her house.

The two of them sat in the car for a moment, in silence, just looking at the house. Tom wasn’t sure what was going through Peyton’s mind, but the images flitting through his mind were making his heart race. The memories of that first rain storm, and accidentally meeting Shiloh outside of his cottage when she had come looking for Barley; the time she had surprised him on the beach while he had been running; his few nights alone with Barley while she had been in London, playing with the dog and relaxing on the couch with him. The idea of going into her house, where they had spent so much time together; giggling and laughing, cooking, making love, reading and having deep discussions – all of those memories flooded through his brain. At the same time, he was terrified of going inside and seeing what was left after the horrible attack, how the happy memories of that house would clash with the terrifying images that had now been left behind.

Peyton got out of the car, and Tom did the same. He followed her down the dirt walkway to the small garden in front, and watched as she bent down and pulled the spare key out from under the little garden gnome. As she walked up to the front door and began to slide the key into the lock, Tom wanted to beg her to stop, to sob and scream that he wasn’t ready – that he’d  _never_  be ready. She glanced over her shoulder at him, then turned the knob, and pushed the front door open.

They stood in the doorway together and let their eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside, to the dimly lit room in front of them. Everything in the living room looked the same, until he looked down at the floor. Phyllis and Molly had done their best, but there was no easy way to clean up blood. Not when it had had time to soak into the wood, and especially when you weren’t using professional cleaning products made for that sort of thing.

Near the door, right in front of where they stood, there was a small dark stain, _we’re standing where he stood, when she had unknowingly opened her door to him,_  Tom thought. He felt goose bumps prickle across his skin. They looked down at the spot where Shiloh’s faithful companion had died trying to protect her, and Tom put a hand over his quivering lip when he imagined the poor old German Sheppard lying there.

Peyton reached down and slid her hand into his. He looked down at their hands and she squeezed his tightly. He glanced up at her and saw her watching him, she looked just as pale and sickly as he felt. “It’ll be alright,” she said quietly. He nodded briskly, and they stepped inside, closing the front door behind them.

Tom stepped in front of Peyton, as they moved further into the room. He knew there was nothing in the house that would hurt them, but he instinctively wanted to walk through the crime scene first.  _Crime scene? This is Shiloh’s home, not a crime scene,_  he argued with himself. He looked down at the next faded stain on the floor. From what Richard had told them, Tom assumed that this was where Albert Jonas had made his first attack. He didn’t know the specifics, but judging by the size of the blood stain, he had raged at Shiloh with a fierce ferocity, undoubtedly fueled by his unstable mind. Tom felt tears in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he continued on, and felt Peyton close behind him.

As Richard had said, there was a trail leading toward the kitchen door. It too had been wiped down, but it was still visible, and Tom made sure to step over it as he walked, trying not to actually step on what he assumed was Shiloh’s blood.

He pushed open the door to the kitchen, and heard Peyton let out a shutter. Tom’s face felt numb again, his heart sank into his gut, and he fought to catch his breath as he looked at the scene in front of them. In the kitchen where they had cooked their first dinner together, where they had made coffee and tea each morning and giggled, where they had fucked feverishly against the counter tops - now all he could see were the sickening bloodstains. Near the door, the biggest stain, the size of a full grown man, lay near where the refrigerator stood. Tom’s eyes travelled past it, and saw the trail leading towards the dining room door.

He covered his mouth again and stifled a groan, as he imagined the shocked Richard finding Shiloh trying to crawl away from her would-be murderer. The idea of her screaming in terror when Richard had gone to her, thinking he was Jonas, was too much for Tom to bear.

He whirled around, facing Peyton, who was pale and had tears streaming down her face. His heart raced, but he did his best to gather himself, “let’s get what she asked for, and get out of here.”

She nodded, and they quickly turned and left the kitchen. They looked at Shiloh’s list, and while Peyton went into the bedroom and started packing a suitcase with the clothes Shiloh had requested, Tom went into her office and began to collect the paperwork she had asked for. He packed up her laptop, slid it into the case she had near the desk, and slid the paperwork inside the case as well.

Coming out of the office with the laptop bag, Tom tried his best to ignore the blood stains in the main room. He put the bag down on the chair and walked over to the bookshelves. The idea had come to him on the train, and he began to select a handful of books he thought she might like to have while in the hospital. He had an armful stacked against his chest by the time Peyton came out of the bedroom with the suitcase packed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Tom had finished gathering books, but caught sight of the cabinet of salt and pepper shakers. He was suddenly reminded of the tiny Big Ben set he had bought for Shiloh at the airport.  _What had happened to that?_  He tried to remember, but everything between Richard’s shocking phone call and when he’d first stepped into the waiting room at the hospital, all felt like a fuzzy blur to him now.

He turned, carrying the books towards her, used his free hand to pick the laptop bag up, and slung it over his shoulder. They walked the bags and books out the front door and carried them to the car. As Tom was closing the trunk, he stopped at thought for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” he told Peyton as she got into the car. She watched him as he hurried back to the house and disappeared inside.

Tom walked into the kitchen, doing his best to ignore the nauseating stains on the floor, but turned away from that side of the kitchen and looked at the counter on the other side of the room. There, he saw what he was looking for.

He came out with the small stereo tucked under his arm, and Shiloh’s iPhone stuck into his pocket. He put the stereo in the trunk, got behind the wheel, and they began to make their way down towards his cottage. He had decided on their way to the island, that he would gather his belongings from the rented cottage, and take them back with him. He didn’t expect Shiloh would want to return to the island, and he had also decided that he wouldn’t ask Richard for a refund for his unused time at the cottage.

It took him less than twenty minutes to go inside and collect the items he had left there. His more important belongings had been over at Shiloh’s, and Peyton had helped him pack them. He threw his luggage in the backseat, and the two of them hurried back down the road toward the ferry.


	13. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiloh is still in the hospital, and Tom is trying his best to get her out of the funk she's sliding into, he tries to prove to her that despite any media-scrutiny they might be under, there are always going to be those rooting for them, and she should take comfort in that. Shiloh also goes into more detail about the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic detail of violent physical attack, also - I make mention of Twitter, Facebook, and Tumblr, and I give a bit of a shout-out to one of my favorite TH blogs 'Hiddleston-Dairly' :)

Shiloh didn’t make a lot of improvement over the next few days. Physically, her doctor assured them that she was making a good recovery, and she might be able to leave the hospital sooner than expected. Tom and Peyton, however, saw a completely different Shiloh.

When Peyton had handed her the laptop, she had taken it and had started to Google both her own name, and Tom’s. He had asked her to stop, told her that she didn’t  _need_  to read any of it, but she was determined. It hadn’t taken her long to come across several new articles about his escape to the island, their blossoming relationship, and her shocking attack.

She would show him blurbs that read;  _Thor star Tom Hiddleston and his new girlfriend, infamous science-fiction author Shiloh Winters, were seen walking hand in hand on the remote island of Burray last week, fueling even more rumors that the actor, who is on holiday between films, has found love on the tiny Scottish isle._  Then headlines that said;  _Besieged American Author Shiloh Winters Ensnares Young Beau Tom Hiddleston Into Delusional and Disturbing Relationship, Details Inside!_

After a while Tom closed the laptop and took it from her. She pouted, but in her frustration, he could only smile and try to make her forget about it. He brought in her books, lining them along the windowsill so she could see them. He set up her stereo and attached her iPod so she could listen to her music. He kept her up to date on the packing that he, Peyton, her parents, and Richard and Phyllis were doing at her home, in order to get her ready to move.

After a few days, in which Shiloh would lay listlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling and ignoring everyone who came in to visit her, Tom had had enough. He hated seeing her so forlorn and disengaged, so while he was at his hotel in Aberdeen one night, he went online and started putting together something special for her. He made a few phone calls, and by the next morning, had what he needed.

He came into her hospital room as the nurse was leaving. Shiloh was looking out the window and didn’t look at him as he neared her bed. He put his computer bag, and the large paper shopping bag he’d brought with him both on the chair, then leaned over and kissed her on the temple. She continued to just stare blankly out the window. Tom trudged on, removing his laptop from the bag and opening it, sitting on the edge of her bed as he opened up the websites he wanted to show her. It was only after a few moments of him typing away on his computer, that she finally turned and looked to see what he was doing. He didn’t look back at her right away, he finished what he was typing, then he raised his eyes to meet hers.

She didn’t smile, she just watched him. After a moment, he grinned, “morning,” he said brightly.

She stared blankly at him, “what are you doing?” she asked, without any real inflection in her voice. Tom smiled, and turned around so he was sitting next to her, his long legs propping him up on the edge of the mattress. He moved the laptop so it was on her lap, and tilted the screen back a bit so she could see it better, “what is this?” she asked.

“ _These_ ,” he said as he began to scroll through the site, “are tweets, about  _you_. You are  _trending_  on Twitter, fans are wishing you a speedy recovery and sending their thoughts and prayers.”

She leaned forward, wincing slightly at the pain in her chest, and he let her scroll through the messages herself. She read through them slowly, and he smirked as he watched her smile at some of the comments. When she reached the bottom of the page, he reached his hand over hers, and changed to a different site.

“This is  _my_  twitter account, and all the messages fans have sent me, about  _us_.” She glanced over at him for a moment, then looked back at the computer. She scrolled slowly, reading the comments carefully. Most of them consisted of remarks like “ _so happy for you and Shiloh, Tom_ ,” or “ _you two make an adorable couple_ ,” he watched as Shiloh smiled as she read these. The more recent comments were things like, “ _hope Shiloh makes a fast recovery, Tom! U 2 R so cute!_ ” and “ _nobody deserves that kind of treatment, please send Shiloh our best!_ ”

She leaned back from the laptop and looked at him, “what’s your point?” she asked dubiously.

He just smiled, and leaned forward to open another page for her to see, “this is what happens when you type your name into Tumblr,” he said with a soft grin.

“ _You_  went on Tumblr?” she asked, surprised. They had laughed often, back on the island, when he had expressed how much the website had distressed him. Shiloh had tried to convince him that the site wasn’t as bad as he thought, but he hadn’t wanted to give it another chance. He let out a tiny giggle when he saw her amazed look, but then he motioned for her to look at the screen.

She began to scroll through dozens and dozens of blog posts mentioning her; links to news reports from Burray and other Scottish papers, blogs about the decline of the health care system in America and how her attacker had been released from the hospital; blogs devoted to Tom that went to great length to defend Shiloh against those who attacked her for whatever reason. She stopped on one blog in particular, titled  _Hiddleston-Daily_ , in which a fan had written in and asked for the blogger’s opinion on Tom dating an older woman.

_It’s really no business of anyone but Tom’s, who he dates, or how old they might be. Personally, 10 years is not that much of an age difference, I have friends who are married to people who are more than 18 years older than them. It’s not like there’s a law that says because he’s young and popular, that he has to date someone of that same status. If he is happy with Shiloh, why can’t his fans just be happy for him? I used to love reading her books, and when she was attacked all those years ago, it was so sad – but if Tom wants to be with her, and she wants to be with him, through all this insane shit with the latest attack, then we, as his fans, should support him AND her, shouldn’t we?_

She scrolled through more blog posts. Amusing quips like “ _when your favorite celebrity author and your favorite actor get together = mind blown_ ,” and “ _TWH + SZW for the win!_ ” made her snicker, and Tom beamed over her as he watched.

“One more,” he said when she had finished scrolling through the Tumblr posts. He reached over and brought up one final page. It was a Facebook page, and he watched her scan the name at the top, then glance up at him, stunned. It was Stephen King’s official Facebook page, and he had written a post that Tom had directed her attention to, titled; “ _In Defense of Someone Who Needs No Defending_.” She scrolled slowly as she read what her idol had written.

_I’ve been reading a lot of news reports about a certain popular actor and the new woman he’s been seen around with, and I am appalled – not because he’s 33 and she’s 43, which a disturbing number of celebrity news reports have been focusing on. No, I’m appalled at the treatment this poor woman is getting from the media in general. When I heard that she was attacked for a SECOND time, by the same mentally-unstable man who attacked her in 2001, it brought me to tears. I have dealt with overzealous fans for most of my career, I have received disturbing letters from fans professing their undying love to me, and others who were convinced I am the devil incarnate. Miss Winters, who I’m sure has received similar letters during her own career, does not deserve the rough and unfair attention she is receiving from “news” outlets like E! News, and Entertainment Tonight – just to name a few. I loved the Thor and Avengers movies, I thought they were great fun, and I thought Mr. Hiddleston stole the show in both of them. I was even fortunate enough to be able to see him live on stage, when I went to a preview show of Coriolanus in London late last year. The man is an incredible talent, especially at such a young age, and at such an early point in his career. Do I care, as a fan, if he chooses to date someone a decade older than him? No! For those who do care, why do they feel it is in their right to chastise someone they don’t even know? Miss Winters is a talented writer, and from what I’ve heard from those who knew her before she went into seclusion, she was a fantastic person as well. When she made the decision to not publish anymore, the literary world lost an important cog in its inner workings – but if by any chance she might be reading this, I implore you, Shiloh, do NOT listen to the ‘Negative Nancy’s’ of the media world. Do not let them run your life or your decisions! You deserve to be with whoever makes you happy, and so does young Mr. Hiddleston. So I send my condolences on your recent trauma, and I also send my congrats that you have found someone in this crazy, insane world, who makes your heart smile._

She reached forward and closed the laptop slowly, Tom watched her as she brought a shaky hand to her forehead. She ran her fingers through her hair, staring down at the closed computer in her lap. He pushed off of the bed and stood up, taking the laptop and putting it on the small dresser where the television was. Then he went to the chair where he had put the shopping bag, and brought it over to the foot of her bed.

She watched him, looking overwhelmed and pale, but interested in whatever it was that was in the bag. He pulled out a stack of opened letters, secured together by a rubber band, and then a large shoe box. He set both on the bed by her feet, removed the empty shopping bag, and turned back to her.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

He beamed brightly, his smile giddy with excitement, “these are for you.” He handed her the stack of open envelopes, and laid the shoebox on her lap. She looked at him for a moment, then started to undo the rubber band from around the letters. As she opened the envelopes, unfolded the letters, and began to read each one, Tom watched her closely. He had been so excited when he had gotten a hold of her agent the night before, and they had told him they had fan mail waiting for her. He had had the letters over-nighted to his hotel, and had gone through them early to make sure there were none from anyone who sounded disturbed or frightening.

The letters he had brought to show her were endearing and thoughtful, he had chosen a handful to bring to her and left the rest back at his hotel room. There were fans telling her they had been reading her books for years and kept hoping she would write something new soon, and fans saying when they had heard about her latest attack, they had prayed for her safety because she didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. He watched as she read the letters and smiled down at them. Soon, she finished the last one, and looked up at him with tears brimming in her eyes, but with a wide and content smile.

“These,” he said as he opened the shoe box, “are also from your fans.” She laughed loudly when he brought out a small stuffed bear, with big round eyes and huge grin stitched onto it. She held her chest and sniggered at the hand knit hat with a large puff ball on the top, and when he pulled out a small ceramic set of alien salt and pepper shakers, she took them and gawked at how cute they were.

“These were all sent for me?” she asked.

He nodded, “and there’s plenty more. Do you like them?”

She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks, “I  _love_  them!”

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss her. She snaked her fingers into his hair and held him close, it had been so long since they’d had a moment together and they could feel each other. She felt so good against him, he wanted to crawl into the tiny bed with her and lay there, holding her and keeping her safe for the rest of time.

She pulled back, breathless, and smiled at him, “you did all this for me?”

His brow wrinkled, his eyes searching hers, “of course I did, I’d do  _anything_  for you Shiloh,” he whispered. She let out a raspy giggle and kissed him again, he felt a part of her old self in that kiss. The Shiloh he had woken up to each morning, the Shiloh he had curled up with on the couch and read to. It filled him with such joy, to feel the woman he loved coming back into herself.

“So now you know, what the media spews about us  _doesn’t_  matter,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers, “there are thousands of people who are happy for us, and are glad that we are happy.”

She smiled and ran her hands softly down his cheeks, looking up into his eyes. Tears still fell from her sweet eyes, but she was smiling that gorgeous smile again, and his heart skipped a beat when she laughed, “I love you,” she said softly.

“I love  _you_ ,” he said against her lips as he leaned in to kiss her again.

For the rest of that morning, Tom stayed with her. He set the letters and gifts up around her collection of books on the windowsill, and they sat and talked for a while before he picked out a book and sat next to her with it.

“I saw this poem a few days ago, and it made me think of you,” he said, shuffling through the pages until he found the right one.

She glanced at the cover and smirked, “you were randomly flipping through my book of Robinson poems?”

He smiled and nodded happily, “would you like me to read it to you?”

She settled back against her pillows and sighed, “that sounds wonderful.”

He cleared his throat, “ _The Garden,_  by Edwin Arlington Robinson.” He glanced away from the book to see her smiling at him, then looked back at the page with a grin across his lips, “ _There is a fenceless garden overgrown/With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves/And once, among the roses and the sheaves/The Gardener and I were there alone. He led me to the plot where I had thrown/The fennel of my days on wasted ground/And in that riot of sad weeds I found/The fruitage of a life that was my own_.”

He took a breath, glancing back at her for a moment, then continued, “ _My life! Ah, yes, there was my life, indeed! And there were all the lives of humankind/And they were like a book that I could read/Whose every leaf, miraculously signed/Outrolled itself from Thought’s eternal seed/Love-rooted in God’s garden of the mind_.”

As he finished the poem, there was a knock on the door. Tom closed the book and leaned forward in his chair, “come in,” he called.

Peyton opened the door and smiled, but she wasn’t alone. Two men came in after her; one was a uniformed police officer, the other was an older man dressed in a casual suit and a light overcoat.

Peyton looked grimly at Tom and her sister, as she came up to the foot of Shiloh’s bed and motioned towards the officers, “Shiloh, Tom, this is Officer Brady and Detective Boyd.” She cleared her throat and looked back at her sister, “they want to ask you about the attack.”

Shiloh’s relaxed and calm demeanor started to fade. Tom put the book of poetry down on the bed and stood up, “can’t this wait? Shiloh’s still recovering,” he asked, looking from the officer to the detective.

The older man in his casual attire stepped forward and extended his hand to Tom, and then to Shiloh, “hello, I’m Detective Boyd,” he said as he shook both their hands. “Tom, Shiloh,” he said curtly as he introduced himself to them both. He took back his hand and pulled a small notebook out of his front pocket. He opened it to a blank page and pulled a pen from the same pocket, “I’m sorry, but we really need to get Miss Winter’s statement about the attack, before we can close our report.”

“It’s okay,” Shiloh said, touching Tom’s arm. He looked back at her and she nodded reassuringly. He sat back in his seat, and Peyton went to the empty chair on Shiloh’s other side.

The detective took a step closer to the end of Shiloh’s bed, his notebook and pen ready, “I do hope you are recovering well, Miss Winters –“

“Call me Shiloh, please,” she interrupted.

The older man smiled and nodded, clearing his throat, “if you could tell us what you remember about your attack, it would help us in our investigation.”

“What investigation?” Peyton asked, “he’s  _dead_ , isn’t he? You found him at the house, what other proof do you need that he attacked my sister?”

Tom glanced over at Peyton, saw the strained, defensive look on her face, but she didn’t look back at him. He reached a hand over to Shiloh’s, and weaved his fingers in between hers. She smiled at him quickly, then took a deep breath, “it’s ok,” she said to her sister. Then she looked back at the detective standing before her, “I can tell you what I remember, detective Boyd.”

He nodded and readied his pen. She took another deep breath, Tom could hear it catching in her throat when she felt that sharp pain in her chest, “it was early, Tom was leaving to head back to London for a few days.”

Tom gripped her hand, remembering that morning, feeling at odds within himself; one part shame, one part guilt, one part powerless, as she sighed and continued, “I watched him go, and I went into my kitchen to make some tea. My dog, B-” she stuttered at the name, her lip began to shake, “Barley, was in the living room. I thought he had made a noise, so I went out to see what he was doing. H-he was staring at the front door, and I thought maybe Tom had forgotten something,” she inhaled sharply.

Tom covered his mouth with his free hand as he listened. He watched her closely as she recounted the events, but his eyes were beginning to sting and he wasn’t sure if he could stand to hear everything. Shiloh struggled, then plodded on, “I opened the door…but it wasn’t Tom. It-it was…Albert.”

Both the detective and Peyton looked at her. Peyton had been staring off into the distance as her sister had been talking, but when she’d heard her speak that name, her eyes had darted over in shock.

Shiloh looked back at her sister, a defiant smirk slowly erupting across her lips, “I’ve spent thirteen years of my life being afraid to say that name. Like he was fucking  _Voldemort_  or something,” she laughed scathingly, shaking her head at her sister, “I can’t live in fear of a name anymore.”

“So you recognized him as Albert Jonas,” Detective Boyd asked, “the man who attacked you in 2001?”

Shiloh turned back towards the detective and nodded, flexing her grip on Tom’s hand, “he looked the same, maybe fatter, a bit older. I dunno, but I’ll always remember that face,” she looked down at her lap, catching her breath. Tom leaned closer to her as she continued, “he punched me,” she sighed, resolutely, “in the face, and then in the gut. I fell to the floor. I heard Barley barking, I didn’t  _see_  what Albert did to him, but I h-heard him…y-yelp.” Her lip shook dangerously, a tear forming in the corner of her eye, and Tom squeezed her hand again, but she didn’t look at him. “There was a thud, and the door slammed,” she looked down at her lap again, eyes searching to remember, “he bent down over me, and I think I screamed…”

The detective cleared his throat, “if it helps to know, your dog gave him a good bite on the arm, really  _ripped_  into him.”

Shiloh nodded, but she couldn’t quite manage a smile. Tom wiped away his own tears, his hand shaking as it covered his mouth. He stared at Shiloh in shock and horror as she went on, “he had a knife, I don’t know where he got it, it looked like a steak knife, but I couldn’t be sure.”

The detective nodded, “we have it in evidence, it was a switch blade.”

She nodded, “he squatted over me, he was rambling and screaming…but I wasn’t sure what he was saying. I only heard a few words,” she inhaled deeply again. Her free hand went to her chest, hovering lightly over where she had been stabbed, “he said something about  _saving me,_  I think…then he raised his arm up and brought them down  _so fast_.” Her lips shook as she held her hand over her wound, “I didn’t even know he had stabbed me at first, it happened so fast. I really didn’t know what had happened until I saw all the blood.”

Tom covered his eyes with his hand and stifled a sob, he felt Shiloh’s fingers tighten around his own, and he took a staggering breath and looked back at her. She continued to stare at the detective, “he slashed at me, I don’t know how many times,” she looked down at her arms. The bandages on her wounds on each arm had been removed over the last couple of days. She had needed stitches on two of the seven gashes that littered her arms, the rest were now covered in band-aids, “he stabbed me again, maybe twice…I’m not sure,” her voice shook. “I don’t know  _how_ , but I remember  _slapping_  him, and I guess that surprised him or something. He stopped and let go of the knife,” she laughed hysterically for a moment. “The knife was still  _in_  me,” she motioned to her abdomen. “I grabbed the handle, I don’t know how I did it…it hurt  _so_  much. But I pulled it  _out_ , and slammed it as hard as I could into his chest.”

She looked up at the detective with tears falling from her eyes. She wiped them away in annoyance, taking a shaky breath. “He fell back, he was staring down at the knife with this horrible look of shock…I pushed away from him, the floor was so  _slippery_ ,” she gasped; Tom remembered the gruesome stains on the living room floor.

His hand felt numb as he squeezed her hand, but he didn’t dare let go. He watched her in terror, “I got to my feet,” she breathed, “and I tried to hold my hands against where he’d stabbed me.” She laughed a little manically again, “and I pushed into the kitchen. I remember hearing the whistle of the tea kettle, it sounded like it was going to explode my skull,” she groaned.

Detective Boyd was writing hurriedly as she spoke, and Peyton was sitting in her chair, hugging herself tightly, with a hand over her eyes, crying silently. Shiloh took another deep breath, steadied herself, “he came through the door after me, I screamed at him and grabbed the kettle. I threw it at him…he screamed and fell to the floor, he was clutching at the knife in his chest,” she cried. “I fell back down a-and… _watched_  him die. There, on my  _kitchen floor_ ,” her voice shook. “I don’t know why, but I started to crawl towards the dining room door, I didn’t think I could go back towards the kitchen door, back near _him_.”

She took a breath and looked over at Tom, who just sat in awe, in complete _shock_. His stomach churned, his heart was pounding. She gave him a tiny, shaky smile, then looked back at the detective one last time, “the last thing I remember was someone grabbing me, I was afraid it was Albert again, but it was Richard, and then I don’t remember anything until I woke up here in the hospital.”

The detective nodded to himself, then flipped his notebook closed and looked up at Shiloh, “thank you, Miss Winters. I know how difficult this must be for you, for all of you,” he nodded to Tom and Peyton. He stuffed the small notebook back into his pocket and glanced at the other officer, then back at the three of them, “do you have any questions?”

Peyton cleared her throat, gasping quickly to gather herself, “do you know  _why_ he was released from the institution?”

Detective Boyd sighed, “the hospital said that Jonas had been making progress, over the last decade, and he hadn’t had any violent incidents. He was deemed capable, and with medication, they were convinced that he could be released back into society without incident.”

“Do you know how he found Shiloh?” Tom asked, he dreaded to hear the answer, but he had to know.

Boyd looked at him, “we found an apartment, that the hospital had helped Jonas get. He had a lot of memorabilia for Miss Winters. He had many copies of her books, and a lot of articles from various publications. He also had a map of Scotland.” Tom and Peyton glanced at each other, then Boyd added, “we don’t believe it was  _The Mirror_  article that alerted Jonas to Miss Winters’ location. We believe he already knew where she was, and was working on a plan to get to her.”

“I-I asked around,” Peyton stuttered, “nobody on the island remembers seeing him.”

The detective shook his head, “no, from what we have gathered, he took the ferry the night before, probably wandered around the island in the dark, trying to find the right house. I think he waited until he saw Mr. Hiddleston leave, before attempting to go after Miss Winters.”

“Thank you, Detective Boyd,” Shiloh said, her voice cracking.

The detective nodded to them, thanked them again, then he and the other officer left the room. The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Shiloh’s recount of the attack still rung in Tom’s ears. Peyton cleared her throat nervously, shifting in her chair to look at her sister and Tom, as she wiped tears from her face, “on a happier note,” she started, trying to smile, “the doctor told me that you can be released tomorrow.”


	14. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom finally gets to take Shiloh home from the hospital, but first, she needs some closure, and he needs to be there for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Significant portion of this chapter devoted to saying good-bye to a pet, I know that is a tough subject for a lot of people (myself included) - also I use lyrics from Darren Hayes' "Bloodstained Heart," if you don't know it, give it a listen!

Shiloh’s doctor was ready to release her the next day, but Tom and Peyton had to make plans for her before she could leave the hospital. In the two weeks since the attack, with the help of Richard and Shiloh and Peyton’s parents, they had been able to pack up the majority of her house, and Tom had taken it upon himself to move all her belongings to his own home outside London. He knew he had the room for all her stuff, and that the house would be the perfect size for the two of them. The problem was that Shiloh had gotten it in her head that she wanted to go back to Burray one last time, to say good-bye to the island, and to say good-bye to Barley.

She had made the difficult decision a few days after Tom and Peyton had gone back to get her things from the house. She had hated the idea of Barley sitting at the veterinarian’s, but she hated the idea of having him buried before she was able to leave the hospital. She and Tom discussed having him cremated. She was in tears during the entire conversation, but in the end, she agreed that it would be a better send off for the dog, to have him cremated, and spread his ashes where he was happiest; the island.

Tom didn’t like the idea of her doing so much travelling right after leaving the hospital, but her doctor said it shouldn’t be a problem. He said they would just have to take it slow, and make sure she didn’t over-do it, or become overly stressed.

Shiloh didn’t want to fly, so along with Peyton, they made plans for the three of them take the train to the city of John O’ Groats. Then they would take the ferry ride up to the island, take care of Barley, and have Shiloh say her good-byes to the place she had called home for the last thirteen years. They would get to the island in the early afternoon, and had planned to spend some time with Richard and his family, and Phyllis as well, before taking the last ferry back to the mainland, and taking the night train back to Aberdeen. Shiloh had asked Tom to keep his hotel room in the city for one more night, so they didn’t have to take the extra-long train ride to London.

Shiloh was already nervous when Tom walked into her hospital room that morning. Agnes and Dylan were leaving for the states that same day, and had said their good-byes to Shiloh the night before, but Peyton wanted to see their parents to the airport, so she had made plans to meet Tom and Shiloh at the train station.

“How are you feeling darling?” he asked as he kissed Shiloh’s forehead. She grunted at him and gave him that look, usually associated only with the early-morning hours before she had had her first cup of coffee. Anxious to get going, Shiloh threw her blankets aside and began to try and throw her legs over the side of the bed. She was able to move, but it was slow-going. Tom had helped her numerous times during her hospital stay, despite her frustration that she wasn’t able to do things by herself. He had fought through her aggravated tears, and convinced her that he was there to help her, through it all, and that included helping her walk when she needed it.

She groaned in pain as her long legs hit the floor, Tom came around with her favorite pair of sweat pants ready for her. He knelt down in front of her and helped her slide her feet into the legs of the pants, then instructed her to put her hands on his shoulders and use him to steady herself as she stood up slowly. She did as he said, and he gingerly pulled the sweatpants up her legs, over her ass, and let the elastic rest around her waist. She held onto him as he stood up in front of her, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her hospital gown out from the elastic of the pants.

She looked down at the floor as he held her, her hands resting lightly on his biceps, “you ok?” he asked softly. She looked towards him, but rested her eyes on his shoulder, biting her lip uncertainly. She shook her head, then lifted her head and looked up into his eyes. He smiled at her, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh of her waist. She grinned, but it was a worried grin, “it’s going to be fine, Shi,” he reassured her.

Her doctor had told her not to wear a bra for the next few weeks, so she had asked Tom to bring her a loose-fitting t-shirt and her favorite coat for the train ride. As he reached behind her and untied the hospital gown and let it fall from her shoulders, she instinctively raised her arms up to cover herself. Tom smiled gently, taking her scarred arms in his hands, “it’s alright,” he whispered. She looked up at him with humiliated tears and he quickly shushed her, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “darling,” he whispered, “it’s just me, don’t cry.”

She lowered her arms and the thin garment fell away from her. Tom gazed down lovingly at her naked breasts, but he couldn’t hide his shock at the new, raw scar that travelled between them alongside her old scar. She made to cover herself again, but he held her arms down gently, “Shiloh,” he said calmly. She looked back up at him, cheeks pink, but he smiled serenely, “relax.”

She took a deep, jagged breath, and he picked her t-shirt up off the bed. He helped her into it slowly, arms through the sleeves first, then her head through the neck hole. He lowered the shirt tenderly over her chest, pulling it down gently until it hung from her thin frame.

“How’s that?” he asked, smiling. She moved to cross her arms in front of herself, but the pressure on her wound was too uncomfortable, so she dropped her arms and fidgeted where she stood. He made her hold his arm as they walked across the room, and she slipped her feet into her shoes as he held her with a hand at her back.

When the door opened, one of the regular nurses came in with a wheelchair in front of her. Shiloh groaned, but the nurse just chuckled, “hospital policy, you Yankee devil.” Tom laughed at the camaraderie that Shiloh had formed with the nurses on her floor, and he helped her into the wheelchair. The chubby old nurse kissed Shiloh on the cheek and wished them a safe trip, and Tom handed Shiloh her purse, which she held on her lap as he wheeled her down the hall.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he said as they neared the elevators. Shiloh had waved to familiar faces as they had gone by, she had been popular on the floor because of her quiet but funny nature, and he couldn’t hold in his grin as she waved at the last nurse before the elevator doors shut behind them.

Alone in the elevator, Shiloh wiped tears from her cheeks, and Tom squatted down to look at her. She looked tired, frustrated, and teary, but she still managed to grin at him, “I want to go back, but I’m also not looking forward to it,” she said quietly.

He nodded and put his hand on her knee, “everyone will be there, we’re all here for you.”

She nodded, “I know,” she breathed, trying to control herself. With a shaking lip, she looked at him, “is this how it’s gonna be now, doctor Tom and his invalid patient?” A smirk twitched at the corners of her mouth.

He grinned up at her, “I kind of like the sound of that…’ _doctor Tom._ ’”

She smiled softly, and he pushed himself up and leaned in to kiss her lightly. She surprised him by linking her fingers around the side of his neck and holding him to her for a longer, deeper kiss. The elevator doors dinged open as he was still bent double, his hands on the arm rests of the wheelchair, her hands at his face where their lips were coupled.

There was an anxious throat cleared, and Tom pulled his lips from Shiloh’s to see a small crowd of people standing there, waiting to get into the elevator. He grinned sheepishly, then got behind her wheelchair and rolled her out into the hallway. “Sorry,” he muttered with a grin. When they had cleared the crowd and were on their way to the parking garage, he heard Shiloh stifle a laugh, and he let his own giggle escape his lips. They wheeled down the ramp to where he’d parked his rental car, and he helped her into the passenger seat. He rolled the wheelchair back to the attendant at the door, and jogged back to the car to hop in next to Shiloh.

Tom turned on the car and looked at her, she seemed to be in slightly better spirits than before. She almost managed a real smile when she looked back at him. He grinned and pulled out of the parking space, and they began their drive to the train station.

“I’ve got a few surprises for you, when we get home tomorrow,” he said after a few minutes of driving in comfortable silence.

She turned from gazing out the window and looked at him, “you do?” she asked suspiciously.

He grinned, “of course.”

She smiled and shook her head, looking back out the window, “Aberdeen is such a beautiful city.”

“We can come back and see more of it some time.”

She chuckled as she watched buildings go by, “you mean more than just the hospital?”

He laughed, glancing over at her, “you’ll like London.”

She looked at him, “I already  _do_  like London… _living_  there will be something to get used to.” He nodded as he drove. She turned back to the window, looking up at the sky, then back down at the cityscape that passed by, “guess what?”

He looked at her, “what?”

She looked back at him and grinned, that wry grin he had always been so fond of, “you can add Aberdeen to that travel journal I got you.”

Tom looked back at her as he turned into the overnight parking garage for the train station. She was still smiling, but he wasn’t sure if he thought her comment was funny or not. He pulled into a parking spot, and as he ran around the car to help her out of her seat, she took his arm and forced him to look at her, “hey,” she said quietly, he stopped and watched her, “it was just a joke.”

He grinned, “I know sweetheart,” he ran his thumb across her cheek and let out a sigh, “I’m a little nervous too, about today,” he added.

She nodded, and he helped her stand up. He shut her door for her, and she leaned against the car as he opened the trunk and pulled out his overnight bag. He had packed a few essentials for the train ride, his own laptop and Shiloh’s in the same bag, along with a few thin books, and some snacks. He slung the bag over his shoulder and took her by the elbow. They walked slowly, Tom felt like a bodyguard as they walked. They found their platform and then looked around for Peyton. When they saw her, the three of them greeted each other with gentle hugs, and Peyton informed them that their parents’ plane took off safely and on time. They waited a few moments for the train, then boarded and were directed to their cabin.

Tom helped Shiloh into a seat, and Peyton sat next to her as he stored his bag under the other bench. He sat down across from them, and they looked out the window at the people hurrying by as the train prepared to take off. The ride was long, but not unbearable. Peyton passed the time on her tablet, Shiloh attempted to do some writing on her laptop, but had ended up closing it in frustration. Tom suggested a book for her, and she had taken it, but when he glanced up later he saw that her eyes weren’t moving over the pages, she was just staring at them.

They arrived at their destination just after noon, and Tom asked Peyton to take Shiloh’s arm as he got his bag and they disembarked from the train. Peyton led Shiloh through the crowd, making sure to keep her clear of anyone who might accidentally bump into them, and Tom watched closely as he walked behind the two of them. It was a short distance to the ferry docks, and Shiloh wanted to be outside, so they decided to walk. When they got to the docks, Peyton got out her camera and began to take pictures, she said it had been years since she’d been out to the island.

As they waited for the ferry, Tom watched as Shiloh leaned against the railing and looked out over the water. The wind whipped through her hair, lifting it up, the sun highlighted the different facets of russet in her dark hair. The light reflected in her sunglasses as she looked over at him and caught him watching her. He grinned, and she smiled. He moved closer to her, along the railing, until he was only a few inches from her. He leaned one arm on the railing, and put his other around her waist, pulling her gently to him.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

She smiled in the sun, pulling her hair out her face, glancing over at him, “my heart feels like it’s playing ping pong inside my ribs.”

“Ah, I love table tennis,” he smirked.

She grinned and playfully hit him on the shoulder. He leaned in closer to her and put his forehead against hers, “aren’t you afraid someone might take a picture of us?” she asked quietly.

He smirked, “I’m not too worried about that, here in little John O’ Groats.”

She giggled and kissed him, he slid a finger under her chin and she parted her lips for him. He moaned softly into her throat when she eagerly sucked on his tongue. He slid his hand up the back of her neck and into her hair, holding her close with his other arm, and she sighed into him. The world fell away for a moment, in that kiss, and he felt her relax. He felt himself relax, and they were joined together in the pleasure of each other’s touch for what could have been an eternity, for all they knew.

They were both quickly snapped back to reality when Peyton came over and cleared her throat loudly in front of them. They pulled apart, Shiloh blushing, and were informed by her diligent sister that the ferry was now boarding. Tom and Shiloh both walked with grins plastered across their faces as he held her arm and they walked onto the ferry boat with everyone else.

**~*~**

It felt odd to be back on the island, when she had thought she’d never see it again. The ferry looked the same, the parking lot at the dock looked the same, but everything felt strange. It felt like it had been decades since she’d last been here, and things should look differently.

As Tom drove them in the car he had been borrowing from Richard, and they passed by the buildings of the town, Shiloh watched in a disconnected awe. _Everyone was walking around town like nothing had changed,_ she thought _, like nothing had happened, everything was normal._

Her heart started to beat feverishly inside her ribs as they drove up towards her house. They passed by the cottage he had originally rented, and as she saw her house come into view, Shiloh tried desperately to catch her breath, but wasn’t able.

Tom parked in her driveway behind Richard and Phyllis’ cars, and he and Peyton got out before Shiloh realized that she would have to move too. Tom opened her door and offered his arm to her, she gripped it tighter than she meant to, and he helped her out of the car with a gentle hand. She clung to him, she felt his arm around her, strong behind her back, but she still felt wobbly on her own legs. Richard and Phyllis were waiting outside the front of the house, and as she neared them she felt unbearably bashful, but she wasn’t sure why.

Phyllis greeted her with a gentle hug, and Richard smiled his usual reserved grin, rubbing her arm briefly. She thanked them, it was all she could think of to say, and then Richard handed her the small box that she knew contained what was left of Barley. She looked down at it, it was so tiny, compared to that big galloping brute he had always been. She felt the tears already, stinging white hot behind her eyes, but she took a deep breath, despite the pain, and walked towards the trail with Tom at her side.

Tom had expressed anxieties over having her take the trail on her first day out of the hospital, he had brought it up days ago, but she had wanted to take the trail because it was important to her. It had been her little path through the forest, she and Barley had trekked through it a million times. She knew it like the back of her hand, and as he walked awkwardly in front of her to make sure she didn’t misstep, her hand clasped tightly within his own, her other hand holding Barley’s ashes. She knew she would be alright, no matter how uneven the ground was. The others behind them chattered to themselves as they walked, and it was only when the trees cleared and the beach came into view, that Shiloh tripped slightly on her own foot, and fell against Tom.

“Are you alright?” he asked, alarmed. She pushed herself back onto her own feet and nodded quickly, he watched her closely as they neared the beach, and when they started to get close to the water, Shiloh let go of Tom’s arm and started to walk forward on her own. She felt Tom watching her as she went, she couldn’t walk at her regular pace, but she managed as best she could with her timid steps, clutching the tiny box to her chest.

She only stopped when she reached the edge of the waves, looking out into the sun as it sat high in the sky, the sound of the water crashing onto the sand, the wind rustling through her hair. She vibrated with silent sobs as she remembered all the times she’d come down here with the dog and let him run, let him play in the water, throw the sticks for him, or his favorite tennis ball. She felt Tom’s warm hands on her shoulder and arm as he came up behind her, and she continued to let the tears fall as the waves crashed.

The five of them stood there for a few moments, in a huddled silence as the clouds passed by quietly. Phyllis cut into the silence and startled them by asking, “should we say a few words?”

Shiloh turned towards her and tried to smile, but she couldn’t manage. From behind her, she heard her sister clear her throat, and begin quietly, “I remember going with Shi to the breeder to pick out a dog,” she coughed away at her own tears, “and she was so excited when she met Barley. He was the first one to come over to us,” she stuttered, “and he jumped right up on her knees and wanted her to pet him.” There were muffled chuckles all around the group, “I was worried he was going to be too rough with her,” Peyton continued, “but he just wanted her to pet him. That’s one thing I always noticed about Barley, whenever Shi was stressed, or something was worrying her, he would have her pet him, he was very insistent about it, until she felt better.”

Shiloh stifled a sob and felt Tom grip her tighter. Phyllis, wiping tears away and sniffing loudly, said in a croaking voice, “he always loved the biscuits I made for him at the bakery. I started selling them as ‘Barley’s Biscuits,’ and all the other dogs on the island love them too,” she smiled, but it turned into a grimace.

Richard put his arm around Phyllis’ shoulders, and added gruffly, “he was the most well-trained dog I’d ever met, even though he loved a good rough-housing when he could get one.”

Tom lowered his face to the ground for a moment, then removed his sunglasses and faced the waves as Shiloh watched him, “I wish I could have known him longer,” he started, his voice shaking. She saw his lips shake, “he was a wonderful pet,” he struggled, “but he was an even-better guard dog. I’ll thank him for the rest of my life for protecting Shiloh with his own life,” he put a hand over his mouth and tears fell from those baby blue eyes she loved so much.

She turned away from him, her own tears streaming, her nose running, her lips shaking so hard she didn’t think she’d be able to form words. She looked out over the water, at the sky, at the waves, and imagined how happy Barley always looked when he would play here. “Barley,” she choked. Tom gripped her shoulder, but she held onto the box of ashes tightly as she took a breath, “Barley was my best friend. He was the one I talked to about everything, he listened to all my bullshit. He didn’t care what was going on, as long as he could get a good tummy-rub and have a treat afterwards,” she tried to smile through her tears, “he calmed me, when I couldn’t do it myself, and he was there to lighten my spirits when I let the world get to me.”

She took a deep, shaky breath, and sighed, “I’m going to miss you, Barley,” she said quietly, opening the box and extending her arms into the air. The wind blew past them then, picking up the light ashes, twirling them in the twists and turns of the air. The cloud of dust danced in front of them for a second, before it was carried away by the current, and they watched Barley head out into the ocean.

They stood there for another moment in silence, watching the waves. Shiloh’s eyes were stuck on the last spot in which she’d seen the ashes disappear. She imagined Barley running along the top of the water, trotting along the horizon with his tongue lolling out to one side happily. She turned away from the view, turned into Tom’s arms, and he wrapped them around her as she cried.

They made their way back up the trail towards Shiloh’s house, she held onto Tom’s arm as they hiked slowly, but the trip seemed easier now that she wasn’t carrying her dead dog. The phrase lingered in her head, ‘ _dead_ ,’ and she wiped away more tears from under her sunglasses.

When the group of them made it up to the driveway, Peyton made to walk back to their car, but Tom stopped them all. Shiloh turned back to him, surprised as he asked, “would you all mind, if Shiloh and I met you at your house in a little bit?” he directed the question towards Phyllis’, who had offered to cook them an early dinner. Phyllis shook her head, and the rest agreed that it was no problem. Peyton got into Phyllis’ car instead, after giving her sister a small hug, and Tom and Shiloh watched as the rest of them drove away and left them alone, standing outside the house she no longer wanted to call home.

“What’s going on, Tom?” she asked.

He turned to her, his hand at her waist, “do you,” he took his sunglasses off and looked at her severely, “I know this is a lot to ask, but do you think you could go inside, one more time?”

She looked from Tom, to the house, then back at Tom, “why?” she asked.

“I want to show you something,” he said quietly.

She wanted to ask him why he couldn’t just show her whatever it was out here, that she wasn’t ready to walk into that house and see what had become of it since she’d last been in there. She looked back at the small cottage and stared at the front door, the idea of walking over that threshold again seemed intimidating, but she knew there was nothing in there that could actually hurt her.

She looked back at Tom and nodded hesitantly. He took her hand, holding it tight within his own, and led her up to the front door. It was unlocked, she supposed it had been this way since it had been emptied by her friends and family. He pushed it open, and Shiloh immediately looked down at the floor. In front of the doorway, along the hardwood floors, she could see the outline of stains that she knew had been her own blood, mixed with Albert’s and Barley’s. She took a gasping breath and raised her eyes, not wanting to see the stains anymore, and looked at Tom. He watched her carefully, then led her down the hallway and into the bedroom.

The room was empty except for the bed. It had been stripped, but the mattress and box springs still sat there on the old wooden frame. She didn’t care much about what happened to it, she didn’t need it where she was moving to. In the back of her mind though, a tiny voice reminded her,  _that’s where you and Tom slept together for so many nights. That’s where you first made love, and that’s where you woke up to him each morning and he would smile in the sunlight._

Tom pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and fiddled with it for a moment. He still held her close, though she wasn’t sure what he was doing on his phone. He clicked one last button, then plopped the phone on the bare mattress, as music started to play. The phone’s speakers were small, but in the tiny room they sounded like a full-sized stereo.

Shiloh recognized the song immediately, Tom took her in his arms as it began, holding her against him gingerly enough to not hurt her wounds, “ _Love, you’re in pieces/There’s no one left to lay you down/Or say it’s okay/On the worst night, of the worst year/Though we might fall, we’ll go out punching._ ” Tom took her hand in his own and held it up, off to the side, and started to sway their bodies from side to side.

She smiled, confused, but let herself follow his lead as he moved his feet slowly along the floor, “what are you doing?” she asked with a small giggle.

He smiled at her, his eyes still puffy from the tears on the beach, “we never  _did_ get that dance,” he said quietly. She stared at him, first not sure of what he meant, then remembering the fiasco at the Burray Brawl. She smiled and laughed softly as the song continued, “ _You hit me like a subway train/And I will never be the same/And darling I’ll follow you down to the ground/Even when you fall apart, I’ll pick up your bloodstained heart/And darling I’ll follow you down to the ground_.”

Tom watched her as they moved back and forth, she grinned at him, then glanced down at their feet, “I never was much of a dancer,” she sniggered.

“That’s okay,” he smiled. As they moved, she became more aware that he wasn’t just watching her, he was thinking about something, he was forming words in his mind, she could almost see them scrolling across his forehead.

The song played on, “ _In the gutter/Where you’re starless and blind to dreams/We can dream each other/To a new day/Where the good guys always win/And heaven still means something_.” After another moment, Tom cleared his throat quietly. “I don’t know what my world would be like, without you in it, and I pray that I’ll never have to find out,” he started.

Shiloh looked into his eyes as they moved together to the music, “you’ve shown me so much, Shiloh,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’ve known you for my whole life, but it’s only been a couple of months,” he smirked. She grinned, and he continued, “I meant what I said, so many weeks ago, when I said I wanted to wake up to you every morning for the rest of my life.” He took a deep breath, “I want you to be by my side, through it all; the good, the bad. Every moment I draw breath, I want you to be there. I want to see your smile when I come home, I want to feel you next to me when I’m sleeping, I want to know you’re in the next room typing while I’m making us dinner,” she giggled again and he smirked, she hadn’t realized they had stopped dancing. He still held her close, “I want you to  _marry_  me, Shi,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened, and he pulled back from her. She watched him, stunned, as he pulled something out of his pants pocket, and stooped down to get on one knee. She clasped her hands to her mouth when he opened a tiny box in front of her and revealed a shining ring.

“ _Tom_!” she gasped.

He beamed, his lips quivering again, “Shiloh, I’ve never known anyone like you before, and I know I’ll never meet anyone like you ever again. I know we’ve only been together for a short time, but you’re one of a kind, and you were  _made_  for me. You fit me; you’re the puzzle piece I’ve been missing my whole life.” She felt tears trickle out of her eyes as he spoke, he choked back his own tears, “will you marry me?”

She didn’t waste any time hesitating, she didn’t overanalyze, or think about it too much. She bent over, ignoring the discomfort in her chest, put her hands on his face, and kissed him deeply. He grunted in surprise, but kissed her back, and when she peeled her lips from his, she whispered into his mouth, “of course I will.”

He stood back up, she put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, no matter how uncomfortable it felt, and kissed him again. They pulled apart, and he took the ring out of the box, and slid it onto her finger. She looked at it in shock for a moment, the looked back at him, “why did you want to do this here, of all places?” she asked with a smirk.

He beamed back at her and shrugged, “I wanted you to leave this place with one last happy memory.”


	15. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the hospital and saying good-bye to the island, Tom and Shiloh travel back to Aberdeen for the night, before their trip back to London (this chapter is a bit of fluff, with a little explicit smuttiness slipped in there)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: despite all the loving fluffiness, things get a little dirty near the end of this chapter, hehe

Dinner had gone by quietly enough. Shiloh had decided to keep her new ring on, and it had been a while until anyone at Phyllis’ house had noticed it sparkling on her finger as they laughed and chatted over their meal. Nobody had seemed too surprised about the engagement.

Tom found himself sitting with Shiloh on one of the couches in Phyllis’ living room; Richard and his wife Molly on the other couch, Peyton and Phyllis in chairs, as the six of them talked and laughed, and he smirked to himself. Shiloh had become more animated, amongst the close group of friends and family. She acted and sounded like the woman he’d come to know, all those weeks back in her house up on the hillside. If he hadn’t known any better, it could have been like nothing had changed, as if no one had come to her door that morning and attacked her.

He watched her as she told a story from her and Peyton’s childhood, her younger sister sitting across the room and smiling with bright rosy cheeks. He had heard the story before, at another time, and found himself drifting, just watching the scene as it unfolded in front of him.

The atmosphere and charm that the island had brought him in his first few weeks of staying there had left its mark on him, and not just in the form of the woman sitting next to him. True, she was the brightest, most shining example of the change that had overcome him in the past two months, but almost as soon as they had set foot back on the tiny rock called Burray, he had felt like he had that first day. Like the sea air was renewing him, the wind was blowing away the old Tom that was tired and overworked, and he was being reborn in the balmy sunlight that basked across the land.

“Hun?” Shiloh’s voice brought him back from what felt like millions of miles away. He blinked a few times to bring himself back into where he sat on the couch, his arm behind her shoulders. He turned towards her and looked down, she was smirking up at him. The others were chatting together animatedly, and she had her hand on his leg as they sat together. He grunted in reply, and she smiled wider, patting his leg, “you okay?” she asked quietly.

Tom took a breath, then nodded. His nod felt stiff to him, robotic. He looked around the room at Richard and Phyllis, who both had opened their arms to him at the very first meeting, welcoming him into their lives without question. He looked at Molly, who he’d never really gotten to know very well, but felt like he knew her through Richard. He looked at Peyton, who he had only met a couple of weeks ago, and who had been so defensive of her sister that she had tried to get him to break up with her, but now was congratulating them on their new engagement and was sitting here, laughing and talking with them all.

He smiled back at Shiloh, studying her face. She had been happy, vibrant, and laughing a moment ago, but as she looked at him, he saw how tired she was. The day had been long, and she was still recovering, they needed to be careful. He looked at his watch, it was getting late,  _they would need to get back on the ferry soon_. He looked back at Shiloh, then glanced at the rest of them, Peyton had removed herself from the conversation and looked to be thinking the same thing as Tom.

They said their good-byes to Phyllis, Richard, and Molly. There were tears, as Tom had presumed there would be. Shiloh might not want to stay on the island anymore after what had happened, but she couldn’t hide that it was difficult for her to leave. He held her hand tightly as Peyton drove them back to the ferry, Richard had no problem coming to get the rental car later on. Tom watched Shiloh closely as they boarded the ferry, they lagged behind the rest of the crowd at her insistence, and the three of them stood at the back of the boat as it began to slowly pull away from the dock. She stood there, her hip against the railing, hands clutching it tightly, her eyes focused on the island as it began to grow smaller and smaller as they floated away.

Peyton stepped to the other side of the deck, watching the view from her own perspective, and Tom turned back to the woman he loved. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he snuck up behind her, sliding his arms around her sides, under her breasts and wounded chest. He felt her tense for a second, then relax and soften into him, leaning against him and taking a deep breath. She rested her arms on his own and they stood there, watching the island grow smaller and smaller.

“It was a good home,” she said quietly after a few moments. The sun was high in the sky, but it would begin its descent soon.

Tom sighed and leaned his cheek against Shiloh’s hair. She nuzzled against him and he gripped her tighter, not wanting to let her go. He turned into her tresses, the smell of her invading his nostrils as he breathed in deeply. “It was an  _amazing_  home,” he said softly into her ear.

The three of them caught their train and found their cabin. Shiloh was drained, and even though she didn’t want to sleep through the little bit of time she had left with her sister, both Peyton and Tom convinced her to try and lay down for a nap while they travelled. She turned her back to them, curling up on the bench seat across from them as Peyton sat with Tom.

After about half an hour, while Tom had been absentmindedly staring at his laptop, not actually getting any work done, Peyton softly cleared her throat and put her book down. He glanced over at her, and she smiled sideways at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, he wasn’t sure if Shiloh had fallen asleep or not. He glanced across the cabin at her, her back rose and fell slowly, she looked relaxed, but he didn’t want to wake her if she had just fallen asleep.

Peyton nodded, “just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked in a low voice.

Peyton sighed deeply, glancing over at her slumbering sister. She looked back at Tom and shifted in her seat anxiously, “about  _everything_ ,” she shrugged.

He looked back at their window and the landscape trailing by. He had been trying desperately not to over-think everything that had happened recently, but that was impossible. He felt like a wave of questions and ideas was barreling towards him, and that soon, the crash of the water would soon crack the barrier he had put up around himself.

“I don’t understand,” Peyton continued, taking another deep breath, “why he only stabbed her  _twice_? Doesn’t that sound terrible? She’s my sister, and I’m so relieved that she’s alive and has survived…but I can’t understand why he only stabbed her twice. And why stab her exactly where he did thirteen years ago? Why the very  _same_  spot?”

He watched her, unsure of how to answer her. He shrugged, then shook his head, “it doesn’t sound  _terrible_. We may never understand why he did what he did…he was  _disturbed_.”

“I know why,” a small, tired voice chimed in between them. Tom and Peyton both turned to look at Shiloh, who slowly turned and sat up awkwardly, she winced and put a hand on her chest. When he moved to come to her aid, she put up a hand gently and waved him off, “I’m alright,” she groaned.

Tom sat back and put his laptop on the floor next to his feet. He and Peyton watched as Shiloh rubbed her eyes and glanced out the window.

“What do you mean, you know  _why_ , Shi?” Peyton asked.

Shiloh looked over at them, her face blank, somehow ominous. She glanced at Tom, but looked away from him and her sister quickly. Staring at the floor of their cabin, she crossed her arms delicately in front of herself and took a heavy breath, “in 2001, when I first met Albert,” she sighed, “he was convinced that the demons from my novels were after me.”

A sudden vision of the website he had read so many weeks ago; of fans talking about Shiloh’s attack and whether or not she would ever write another _Darkness Within_  book, flashed through Tom’s mind. He swallowed hard as Shiloh took another shaky breath and continued, “I found out later on, afterwards, that he had become convinced that I actually was a demon. I don’t know exactly what convinced him of that, but that’s  _why_  he stabbed me on my right side; in my books, the demons’ hearts are on that side.”

Tom and Peyton stared at her perplexedly for a moment. Peyton was the first to blink and respond to this new revelation, “so he…” she trailed off, baffled, “at first, he thought that he had to save you? Then, what, he started to think you were ‘one of them,’ and the only way to  _save_  you, was to try and  _kill_  you?”

Shiloh nodded silently. Peyton scoffed and crossed her arms, obviously troubled by this thought. Shiloh’s eyes connected with Tom’s, he felt numb for a moment. He cleared his throat, “so he attacked you in the same spot, because he thought he hadn’t stabbed you enough before?”   
Shiloh shrugged, shaking her head slightly, “I’m not sure. But in the books, to kill one of the demons, you had to impale them –“

“ _Impale_  them?” he asked, surprised.

She smirked, “I made it very difficult, to actually  _kill_  one of them, when I was writing…”

Peyton put her hand over her mouth, then laughed under her breath. Shiloh looked at her, worried for a moment, until she began to chuckle as well. Tom couldn’t figure out what was so funny, everything she had just said had been extremely disturbing to him, he looked from one to the other as they giggled. Peyton fought to catch her breath, “I think, subconsciously, your imagination was protecting you.”

Tom smirked despite himself, as the sisters giggled, and they spent the rest of the trip talking; not about the stabbing, or demons, or the pain of leaving her home behind, but of things that made them laugh. Stories that made Shiloh giggle so hard she held her chest and gasped for air. Anecdotes that enthralled both sisters as he described being on the sets of movies, and tales of their childhoods that made their train ride less tedious.

At the train station, Shiloh and Peyton said their teary good-byes, making plans for them all to get together for the holidays. Tom walked with his arm across Shiloh’s lower back, her own hands holding her purse tightly to herself. They got to his rented car, and once they’d started driving towards his hotel, she finally was able to take a deep breath and relax.

She turned towards him, “so you said you had some surprises for me?” she asked playfully.

He smiled over at her, “that’s for  _tomorrow_ , when we get home.”

She continued to smile at him, grinning widely. He saw her studying him, out of the corner of his eye, as they drove through Aberdeen. Once they arrived at the hotel and parked, he led her through the lobby and into the elevator. She leaned into him once the doors had closed, Tom put his arm around her shoulders and felt her tremble against him, “you alright?” he whispered into her ear. She smiled up at him and nodded.

**~*~**

The rest of their evening was quiet, uneventful. Shiloh enjoyed the view from the room, while Tom ordered them room service. She flipped through the channels on the television, while he checked his email, then they ate dinner quietly at the table by the window. Afterward, he lay down on the bed, on top of the blankets, and flipped randomly through the channels as she got ready to take a bath.

The steam from the bathroom began to build, as she filled the luxurious tub, and Tom smirked to himself as the rest of the hotel room began to get steamy and moist. He sat up; the volume on the TV was low since he hadn’t really been paying attention to it. He stood up and walked around to the doorway of the bathroom, Shiloh was standing on the tiled floor, wearing nothing but her panties, examining herself in front of the full-length mirror. She didn’t seem to notice him standing behind her at that moment. She had removed her old bandage, and he could see her dark eyes traveling over her chest, scrutinizing the new scars that had joined her older ones.

“Do you know what I see, when I look at you?” he asked, she jumped faintly, then turned to him. A month or so ago, she would have been nervous for him to see her naked, but now, she moved freely in front of him. He smiled, “I see you, the woman you are, in here,” he reached forward and touched a finger to her temple. She grinned sheepishly, glancing down at the floor, “I see these,” he slid a finger under her chin and brought her face up to his, their eyes connecting, “these beautiful big eyes, and these wonderful lips,” he leaned down and kissed her softly. She smiled against his lips and he pulled back, grinning down at her, “and I see this gorgeous shape,” he motioned down to the rest of her body, she laughed nervously. “But I never even notice the scars,” he said quietly, and she quickly looked up at him, surprised. Tom’s brow furrowed dangerously, “they’re the first things you see, aren’t they?” he asked.

She looked away, shrugged. When she looked back at him, he had put a hand over his mouth, his blue eyes glazed in tears, “Tom?”

He shook his head, blinking away at the tears, he brought his hand away and reached out to her, placing his soft fingers at the side of her neck, his lip quivering, “I’m  _so_  sorry,” he muttered softly.

She shook her head, her hand climbing up to cover his, “it’s not your fault,” she whispered.

“I shouldn’t have left you!” his voice was hoarse, ragged with silent sobs.   
She smiled softly at him and took his face in her hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks, he couldn’t look into her eyes at first, he was afraid to. She ran her fingers over his skin, soothing his panicked sobs, shushing him quietly. Finally, Tom raised his eyes to hers and did his best to look at her, to try and convey his regrets without saying a word, since he couldn’t trust himself to speak at the moment. She smiled and pulled him forward, lightly covering his tear-streaked lips with her own, then pulling him down into a bracing hug. He felt her wince as he put his arms around her, but she didn’t squirm, her arms were taut around his shoulders. He buried his face in her shoulder and attempted to gather himself, breathing in deeply the scent of her skin.

When they pulled apart, Shiloh took Tom’s hand and brought his shaking palm up to her chest. He wanted to pull away, as she placed his fingers over the new scar there. It was pink and raw compared to the older ones. He just watched her, his face limp and his breath still catching in his throat. She looked up at him, enclosing her hands over his as she held it against her new wound, and she smiled softly. “ _This_ ,” she took an unsteady breath, “is here, because of Albert –“

Tom started to shake his head, he didn’t want to hear that name. Shiloh continued, still holding his hand against her scarred skin, “ _Albert Jonas_ ,” she said forcefully. Tom looked down at the floor, his other hand hanging nervously at his side, until Shiloh caught sight of it, grabbed it, and laid it upon his other one at her chest. With both his hands held against her, she waited for him to look back at her. When he did, she continued, “ _not_  because of you.  _You_  –” she let her lip tremble. He knew she was holding in her own tears which were always so readily available these days, “you are the reason that _I_  am still here.”

He felt more tears, but she just smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but grin back, tears or not. He let out a breathy groan and she kissed him. She caught him off guard, he put his arms around her and brought her into a broad hug. She curled into him, pressing herself against him. The feeling of her against him brought back a flood of memories, mostly from the house back on the island. Tom’s lips felt hungry for hers as they kissed, they hadn’t had a moment like this in weeks. Even back on the dock, waiting for the ferry, they hadn’t been alone. Now that they were, his fingers were unconsciously crawling up her naked flesh, pulling her as close to him as she could get. Her own hands were crawling down his sides, they stopped at his belt and began to fiddle with the buckle. He felt that rush of lightning surge through him again, that surge of excitement that only came with rolling around with this woman who had captured his heart. He delved his tongue into her mouth and she moaned deliciously, but that tiny voice in the back of his head suddenly began to raise the alarm, and Tom reluctantly drew himself back from Shiloh’s kisses.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, breathing heavy, “what’s wrong?” she asked.

He smiled, running his fingers through her hair, “we should…take things slow.” The words tumbled from his mouth before he gave himself the chance to have an internal struggle. He knew it was the right thing to do, even if neither of them wanted to actually admit it, “you just got out of the hospital, Shi, you know what the doctor said.”

She sighed and stepped back, looking away from him, frustrated. She stepped over to the tub and turned off the running water. He watched her, he knew she was annoyed, but he wasn’t going to leave the room yet. She tried to ignore him, but he saw the trace of a grin when she glanced over her shoulder in his direction. She peeled her underwear off and tossed them aside, stepping into the steaming bath water. Once she was settled and had leaned back slowly, watching her new scar as the level of the water came close to it, Tom stepped over quietly and sat on the toilet nearby.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leaned her head against the back of the tub. After a moment, she said softly, “you’re right, y’know.” He smirked and reached across the water to take the bath sponge off the small shelf. He poured some of the hotel shower gel onto the sponge and lathered it up in his hands. She kept her eyes closed as he scooted closer to her and took her arm as it lay on the edge of the tiled tub. He ran the soapy sponge up the length of her arm, scrubbing gently. When he got to her shoulder, she grinned as he gently pulled her forward by her wrist. She leaned forward, peeking at him through slit eyes, and he began to run the sponge behind her neck and down her back, kneeling in front of the tub and smiling to himself.

“Tom,” she had opened her eyes completely now, and her smile was gone. She was sitting up in the water, her face turned towards him, but she was gazing down at the floor of the bathroom. He dunked the sponge in the water for a quick rinse, then brought it back up to wash her other arm. She watched him as he reached and began to soap up her arm. He leaned so close to her face, she could have kissed him, but she just watched him instead, “Tom,” she repeated.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he replied softly, letting her arm fall into the water to rinse off.

He felt her take a steadying breath. He ran his wet hands down her back as she sighed, “I’m nervous about tomorrow.”

He sat back on his heels and looked at her, his arms resting on the edge of the tub, his hands in the warm soapy water next to her, “why are you nervous?”

She grinned awkwardly and shrugged, bringing her knees up and putting her arms around them slowly, checking if the position hurt before she committed to it. “I guess I’m  _excited_ , mostly, to see your house-”

“ _Our_  house,” he corrected her.

She smiled and nodded, “but I’m nervous too. I’m nervous about what people will say,” she said it so quickly, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

Tom smirked, “it’s alright, hun. I doubt there will be anyone anywhere near the house that even knows who we are. My neighbors are good people, the neighborhood is quiet. There aren’t going to be any paparazzi or reporters outside, we’ll be fine. Your things are all moved in, all we have to do is unpack. We have two weeks to ourselves –”

She laughed, “yeah, and then we’re leaving for two  _months_.”

He smirked dryly at her. She chuckled again, then looked at the small bottles on the shelf and grabbed the shampoo. He helped her wash her hair, then he helped her stand up and dry off. By the time she was in her pajamas and getting into bed, he was unbuttoning his soaked-through shirt and getting into his own bed clothes. She took her meds as Tom set the alarm on his phone and set it aside. Shiloh flipped through the TV channels once more, and once she had settled on a movie they had both seen, they snuggled together under the blankets.

Shiloh held onto him as she lay next to him, her head in the crook of his arm, as they both watched the television screen. Her arm was draped over his stomach, her hand hanging loose along his side. She had found a comfortable way to lie, but Tom wasn’t sure if she would be entirely comfortable any time soon, with the amount of pained groans and winces she had made throughout the day. He watched the screen, but he wasn’t paying attention to the movie, his mind was thousands of miles away.

When Shiloh’s arm moved, he was only dimly aware of it. His eyes were unfocused, thoughts whizzing through his head, even though the rest of him was beginning to get sleepy. Her hand crept slowly down to his crotch and he jumped when she grabbed him.

“Shi,” he groaned, surprised. She giggled and looked up at him, “what are you doing?” he asked playfully.

Her smile was mischievous, “what do you  _think_  I’m doing?” Her fingers found their way inside his boxers and she began stroking his balls. He reached down with his free hand and was about to grab her wrist to stop her, when she flicked lightly over his cock and made him twitch.

He grunted deep in his throat, “you’re supposed to be taking it easy for a few weeks,” he tried to remember what the doctor had said.

She smirked, “I’m not going to overexert myself just by touching you,” she breathed as she moved up to kiss him. He met her lips and she moaned happily at his eager kisses. His cock responded eagerly as well, to her warm touch and expert fingers. He was soon hard as a rock, pulsing against her hand as she used her saliva for lubrication.

He moaned as she ran her palm over the sensitive head and gripped him tighter, “ _Shiloh_ ,” he whispered.

“Do you like that?” she whispered in his ear as she kissed and nipped at his neck. She realized, as her movements began to pick up speed, that she had never given him a hand job before. She had never been fond of that term, hand job.  _There are so many crass and nasty terms for things that felt so wonderful and were meant to be affectionate,_  she thought, but then she reminded herself that she too enjoyed a good fuck just as much as making love.

Tom was soon putty in her hands, she could feel every bulging vein in his dick as she stroked him. She took her time; it didn’t hurt her to do this, so she wanted to enjoy it. She looked down at the way her hand and his hard on bulged and moved underneath the blankets. Then she looked up at his face as his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing quickened.

Her eyes moved over him, watching his chest flutter, his stomach shudder. His moans were music to her ears, she leaned back towards him and began to suck the sensitive skin along his illustrious jaw line. His hips bucked and she could feel that he was close, he turned towards her, eyes only half open, and she quickened her pace. His mouth fell open, she took the opportunity to take his bottom lip in her own and suck on it earnestly. He groaned, trying to kiss her, but his orgasm was sneaking up on him and his breath was quickening in his chest. She pumped her hand faster, not feeling any discomfort in her chest as she did so, and within a moment he was whimpering her name as he begged her not to stop. She felt him twitch once more before his legs jerked uncontrollably under the blankets and the ecstasy began to wash over him. He groaned and her name came out in a stunted grunt as she felt his hot seed spill out over her hand, coating the inside of his boxers. His arm tensed around her and held her closer to him, until his breathing began to subside and he relaxed.

Tom took another deep breath, then looked down at her, wide eyed, “where did _that_  come from?” he asked with an exasperated laugh.

She grinned happily, her hand still clutched around his cock as it began to soften. “I’ve missed our ‘alone time,’ and I love seeing you so…orgasmic,” her smile turned devilish.

Tom got out of bed and wiped himself off, changed briefs, then climbed back into bed with her. She snuggled back into the crook of his arm and put her arm across his chest. They lay there like that for a while before falling asleep. As Tom drifted off, he mentally ran over what they had to do in the morning, what time their train was, and when they would be getting to London. He fell asleep thinking about unpacking boxes with Shiloh and the look on her face when she saw what he had waiting for her there. A sleepy grin across his lips, his arm around her as she slept quietly against him, he could have been in heaven for all he knew.


	16. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing more with the aftermath of her attack, and her recuperation, Shiloh and Tom prepare for the trip to Belfast so he can begin filming High Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit scene in this chapter
> 
> Warnings: some mention of violent physical attack, mention of miscarriage, and brief talk of getting psychological help

Their train ride to London was peaceful; Shiloh leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes while Tom replied to a few emails. It was comforting to have her by his side, it was a feeling he hadn’t had in years, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable with anyone. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he smiled and lightly leaned his head against hers. Their fingers tangled together, and Tom ended up packing away his laptop and closing his eyes for the last hour or so of the train ride.

They arrived at London, she stuffed her long tangle of hair up into an old baseball cap as they disembarked from the train. Shiloh insisted on carrying her own bag, even though Tom didn’t want her to lift anything too heavy. Luckily, her overnight bag was light, and she smirked at him as they walked through the station in almost-matching outfits. They found his car, he loaded their bags, and he drove them quietly through the busy streets of London as she looked out the window, fascinated.

He pulled onto his street half an hour later, that area of the city much more calm and serene. She watched intently as the houses went by, taking note of the neatly trimmed yards and kids playing outside. When he pulled into his driveway and parked inside the garage, she was slow to get out. He popped the trunk and watched her as she looked around, taking everything in slowly. She made her way to where he was standing, and he held her overnight bag out for her.

He caught her eye and she smirked anxiously at him, “how are you doing?” he asked quietly.

Shiloh shrugged and took her bag and purse. She was quiet as she followed Tom through the door that led to the rest of his house, he turned back to her and took her hand quickly, squeezing it. They put their luggage down in the main room, and Tom took a deep breath as he looked around. There were boxes scattered across the room, but it still retained its subdued charm despite the cluttered mess. He turned to her and saw her looking around, she felt him watching her and turned back to him, their hands still connected.

Tom grinned, “want the tour?” he asked happily.

Shiloh smiled, but it was a small, nervous grin. He led her through the rooms, showing her the kitchen, the dining room, the extra bedroom and his own bedroom. He pulled her into his arms as they stood near the bed and she giggled when he caught her in an all-encompassing hug. She put her arms around his waist and he pressed his lips against her jaw, whispering into her ear, “this is  _our_  bedroom now.”

She was all jumpy giggles as he showed her the rest of the house; the room he referred to as ‘the library,’ which she gawked at, the bathrooms and the storage closets. He loved making her smile, it was so refreshing to see that beautiful grin again; it reminded him of their wonderful weeks together on the island. He led her down another hallway, and before he opened the door, he turned her around so that she was standing in front of him, facing the door. Shiloh chuckled as Tom reached up and put his hand over her eyes. She gripped his arm, smiling unsteadily as he reached in front of her and turned the knob of the door.

They shuffled into the room awkwardly, Tom’s hand still covering her eyes as she laughed. He stopped her, a hand lightly on her waist. He leaned forward, unable to contain his own grin, “this is the first of the surprises I have for you,” he said quietly into her ear, removing his hand from her face.

She blinked her eyes open slowly, glancing around the room a few times before she realized what she was looking at. It took her a moment to recognize her old desk sitting in the middle of the room, boxes stacked next to it, a chair wrapped in plastic sitting against the opposite wall. She looked around at the labels on the boxes, then saw the one on which Tom had scribbled;  _Shiloh’s computer_.

She turned back to him, smiling, “what is this?”

Tom grinned, “it’s  _yours_.”

She glanced up around the room, taking in every inch that she could see, then she looked back at him, eyes wide, “you said you didn’t have a lot of space?”

His grin widened, “there’s not a  _lot_ , but there’s enough for you to have your own office.” He took her by the hand and led her towards the window, where the wrapped lounge chair sat, “I saw this chair in a shop in Aberdeen, I thought it would be perfect for you.” She looked down at the fluffy seat with a hand over her smiling mouth as he continued, motioning to the window, “I can just see you, lounging here in front of the window with a book, taking a break from your writing.”

Shiloh looked up at him with a huge grin, and tears forming in her eyes. Tom put his hands on her arms and rubbed. She smiled brightly and pulled him into a kiss, then wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her tightly against him, feeling her vibrate with laughter, and he pulled back to lean his forehead against her own, “do you like it?”

“I  _love_  it!” she breathed huskily. “It’s amazing Tom, thank you.”

He smiled and kissed her again. They stood like that for a few moments, holding each other. Shiloh pulled away and went to look out the window, smiling at the view. After a few minutes, Tom led her out and showed her some of the unpacking he’d already done, and asked if she wanted to start unpacking some of the smaller stuff in the living room.

In the living room, a number of smaller boxes sat scattered about, most of them labeled:  _books_. Tom set up his iPod on the stereo, and was ever watchful of her as she opened boxes and looked at the books lined within them. Shiloh would pull out a few at a time, and would bring them to his bookshelves to stack them with his own collection. Tom watched as she thought about where each book should go, while he unpacked her DVD collection and lined her movies on the shelf unit they had brought from her house.

They worked like that for an hour or so, before he brought her a cup of tea and they sat on the couch in front of his television, and she looked around, satisfied. “It’s a very nice house,” she said after a few minutes.

Tom smiled at her, “ _you_  make it a home.”

She grinned and sipped her tea. He had brought a box over to the couch with him, and had set it on the floor in front of them. She looked down at it; she couldn’t see what the label said from the angle she was at, so she looked back up at Tom, “what’s this one?”

He smirked, “these,” he put his own cup of tea down and leaned forward, dragging the box closer to them. He opened the cardboard folds and pulled out a wad of crumpled newspaper, “are special, so I thought they should go in here,” he said, handing it to her. She grinned at him suspiciously, then took the paper and started to unravel it. Eventually, she discovered her set of German Sheppard salt and pepper shakers within the crinkled paper. Shiloh smirked up at him, running her finger over the ceramic shaker lightly.

Tom smiled sweetly, then turned away from her and reached back behind the pillow he was leaning against. He brought out a small wrapped box and held it in his lap. “This,” he looked down at the package, swallowing hard, “is something I bought for you, when I was in London.”

She cocked her head at him, “I thought you said you didn’t get out of the airport?”

He nodded, still looking down at his wrapped gift, then looked back at her with his brow creased anxiously, “I saw this in a gift shop, in the airport, and…”

“What’s wrong, Tom?”

He blinked quickly and took a shaking breath, glancing around the room anxiously. When he looked back at her, she was watching him with such concern in her dark eyes, he had to bite his lip hard to stop himself from breaking down again.  _There’s been enough tears_ , he told himself. He took a steadying breath, “I think I bought these…while you –” he caught himself.

Shiloh smiled softly, “you think you bought them while I was being attacked?”

He glanced back at her, surprised that she had been able to say exactly what had been giving him so much trouble. She was becoming more and more self-aware and surer of herself, he wondered if the second attack hadn’t changed her somehow.  _She doesn’t seem as timid and scared of the world_ , he thought, _as she used to be_. He nodded at her and let out a pained breath, “I thought you would like them, but –”

She reached out and laid her hand lightly on his knee, a reassuring smile across her lips, “Tom,” she said calmly, and he had a hard time looking her in the eye. She continued calmly, “it doesn’t matter if you bought them while I was being attacked, you had no idea. There was no way you could have known. I’m sure I will love whatever it is.”

He tried to answer her sweet smile with his own, but it came out shaky and unsure. He handed the small box over to her, she took it and put the German Sheppard shakers on top of the box at the floor. He watched her as she stared down at the little package and unwrapped it. She sat with the small box in her lap, looking the gift over. After a moment, she smiled up at him.

“They’re adorable,” she said quietly.

“You like them?” he asked.

She nodded, leaned over and kissed him. He watched, partly in shock, as she got up and took the two new shakers over to where the movers put her curio cabinet, near his book shelves. She opened the front door of the cabinet, removed the two tiny Big Bens from their packaging, and set them on the top shelf. She smiled back at him, shut the cabinet door, and came back to where he sat on the couch.

She sat next to him and leaned into him, spreading her arm over his stomach as he brought his own around her. She snuggled into him, he rested his cheek against her head and they sat like that for a few moments, just listening to the soft music as it played in the background.

“Are you still sure that you want me to do  _High Rise_?” he asked, the question had been plaguing him for the last few days, growing ever more prominent in his mind.

Shiloh lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, eyebrows tightened in confusion, “why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged, “you’re still recovering, Shi. I feel like a twat asking you to come to Belfast with me when you’re still on the mend.”

Shiloh shook her head. “For one thing,” she started, “I  _want_  to go. You know how much I love that book. I can’t wait to see the sets and the locations, it’s so exciting!”

He ran his hand through his hair, still distressed by the idea, “I’m going to be complete  _rubbish_. My head is going to be a million miles away; I won’t be able to concentrate–”

Shiloh brought a hand up to his face. He looked down at her, her face so close to his. It was these sorts of moments that he cherished most; where the two of them made the whole world disappear just by looking at each other. It wasn’t the sex, it wasn’t the physical attraction, it was the connection they’d made so long ago – on that beach, on that tiny island. “ _You_ ,” she smiled, “are going to be amazing. I can’t wait to see you do a scene. You’ll be perfect as Laing, you’re going to blow everyone away.”

He smirked, “you’re gonna make me so nervous, I’ll forget all my lines.”

She let out a dry laugh, “like you’ve ever been nervous a day in your life.” He smirked and she chuckled, “and with the way you memorize your lines, I’d be surprised if you’re not  _dreaming_  about  _High Rise._ ”

“I dream about  _you_ ,” he confessed.

He had caught her off guard, but she smiled, “that’s sweet.”

He leaned down and kissed her. Her fingers crawled up into his hair, he felt goose bumps erupt across his flesh as she ran her fingertips over his scalp. She moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, holding her against him as he shifted them on the couch. She breathed deeply into him, catching her breath and smiling against his lips. He wanted her, he wanted her to envelope him. He wanted the smell of her skin to sheathe him, wanted to feel her against him once more. He knew that she wasn’t healed enough for the rigorous activities which he had daydreamed about, but her eagerness was just as apparent as his. She threw a leg over his and couldn’t help but grind herself against him. He knew she could feel his hard on through their clothing.

He growled, shifting her to lean against the other end of the couch. She winced at his weight against her chest, but he lifted himself off of her quickly and hovered above her. She smiled up at him, breathing heavy, “what are you doing, Mr. Hiddleston?” she asked with a mischievous grin.

Tom smirked and leaned down to kiss her, sucking on her bottom lip. Shiloh groaned and her hands began to travel down his chest, lingering on his belt. He tore his mouth from hers, buried his face in her neck, and lapped at her soft silken flesh. Her moan vibrated against him as he kissed her throat, her hands paused at his waist, and he began to trail his kisses lower.

She breathed roughly as he kissed her chest; he knew where she was tender, and where it was safe to touch without hurting her. She watched him, he glanced up as he ran his fingers over one breast, catching her stare, and her eyes fluttered shut as he tugged at her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. She moaned his name, he flicked her other nipple with his tongue, wetting the shirt fabric against her skin. She writhed beneath him, he was careful not to touch her bandaged scars as he trailed further down. He lifted her shirt up past her belly button and laid feathery kisses on the sensitive skin just above her pants.

Shiloh groaned as Tom’s long fingers snaked into the waist of her sweatpants and started to pull them down over her hips. She didn’t fight it; she held a hand over her chest, as if to remind herself that her wounds were still there.  _The doctor said to give it a few weeks,_  she thought, _until I felt ready_. There was that irrational voice inside her head though, begging her to demand Tom make love to her right there on the couch. She missed their nights together, she missed the feeling of him inside her, how he filled her up. When they made love, they joined together in a way that still felt foreign to her, even after all this time. She was still learning how to be loved, but she didn’t want to lose that feeling they had when they were connected.

Tom looked up at her, her pants and underwear dragged down to her knees. “Are you alright?” he breathed.

Shiloh nodded, looking down at him from where she lay on the couch. He was on the floor, kneeling in front of her, and he smiled enthusiastically. She smiled back, but she couldn’t hide her anxiety, “I dunno if I can do this, Tom,” her voice was small, unsteady.

Tom’s face softened, “you don’t have to  _do_  anything, darling.” He crawled back up her body, leaning between her legs, and his mouth found hers. Her fingers went to his shoulders, kneading the taut muscles there. She loved putting her hands on him when he was this close. He pulled his lips away and leaned his forehead against hers, “the only thing I want you to do,” he smiled devilishly, “is _come_.”

Shiloh grinned, felt her face flush, and Tom disappeared back down to where her pants were around her knees. She laughed as he pulled the rest of them off of her legs, then threw them and her underwear over his shoulder with gusto.

His hands were soft against the sensitive flesh of her thighs, his lips hot and wet against her skin. He kissed and licked his way from her knee to the inner crease of her hip. She jumped when he licked along the inside of her thigh, her arms across her chest as she lay on the couch. He smirked up at her, “relax, Shiloh,” he breathed. He felt her chuckle from above, as he leaned in and kissed her folds. She gasped loudly, his fingers crawled up around her thighs to hold her still as he licked, kissed, and tugged. She ran a hand down her stomach and up into his hair, entangling her fingers into his curls.

Tom licked a finger and drove it inside her tight heat, she tightened her grip on his hair, causing him to groan deep in his throat. She moaned his name, he looked up at her as he flicked her sensitive nub with his tongue and pumped her quickly with his fingers. Suddenly a vision flashed in front of his eyes; of her on the bed, writhing in front of him, the light dim and warm as the memory of their argument had been quickly forgotten and they had made love for the first time.

He smiled up at her, she was so close he could feel it within her walls. She breathed deeply, her breath hitching in her throat. He quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers into her and hitting that sweet spot, making her groan and squirm. She tensed, her legs went stiff on either side of him. He sucked on her clit greedily as she tightened around his digits. She arched her back into him, moaning his name and gasping for air as she came. She cried out, gasping in ecstasy, and when her orgasm had subsided, she fell back against the couch and fought to catch her breath, “holy shit,” she muttered.

Tom smiled and reached behind himself to grab her pants. She smirked when he handed them to her, and as she slid her legs back into her sweatpants, he crawled back onto the couch to lean next to her. She slid her ass into the pants and sat back with him, wincing quietly and placing a hand on her chest. She smirked at him wryly, but Tom’s smile had suddenly disappeared. The brief look of pain when she had moved had worried him, “was it too much, too soon?” he asked, gently holding a hand over where her bandages were.

She watched his hand hover above her chest, then took it in her hands and pressed his palm against her chest. It was a pressure she still had to become accustomed to, but she welcomed it at the same time, “I’m fine,” she breathed.

**~*~**

The next two weeks went by quickly, for Shiloh. She felt as if everything was rushing by, life seemed to happen so much faster in the city. So different from how it had felt back on Burray. Tom seemed to understand that she was still adjusting, that she wouldn’t become accustomed to life in London overnight. He remained attentive of her; she would catch him watching her while she was unpacking her office, or as they cooked dinner together in his kitchen. She had joked with him about it, and teased him, but she found his attention comforting, no matter what she said.

The pressures of the outside world seemed to seep into the house gradually. They had made plans to meet with Tom’s mother and sisters when they came back from Ireland. He didn’t want to pressure Shiloh into that right away, and there wasn’t a lot of time before they left London. Luke came over, and Tom introduced them. Shiloh hadn’t known what to expect when meeting his agent, but she told herself later on that she should have known Tom would only surround himself with the best people. Luke was kind, friendly, and understanding. He wanted to get to know Shiloh, but he also wanted to take care of business. He convinced Tom to do the short interview that they had originally planned on, before Shiloh’s attack, but now it would be a quick phone interview, once they were in Belfast.

Shiloh felt like the trip to Ireland was an escape, something she shouldn’t be looking forward to as much as she was. She loved the house in London, with its small rooms, its nooks and crannies here and there, and the hominess that she felt throughout, but it hadn’t started to feel like her home yet. She knew she couldn’t rush that feeling, but running away to another country wasn’t exactly going to  _help_  it, either.

The night before they were to leave for the  _High Rise_  shoot, Tom was lying on the bed writing an email on his laptop, as Shiloh lay next to him with a book in hand. She sighed deeply and dropped her book to her lap. “What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing over at her.

She leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes, “I think I’m just nervous, about the flight,” she said listlessly.

Tom stopped typing, and turned to her. She only opened her eyes when she realized he was watching her, and she turned to meet his gaze. He smirked, “what’s  _really_  wrong, Shi?”

She furrowed her brow and looked down at the bed, shaking her head slightly, “I-“ she stuttered, trying to take a deep breath. “I think I’m worried…” she trailed off, trying to think of the best way to form her thoughts, “I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to get used to the city.”

She glanced back up at him and found him grinning at her. He reached over and put his hand on her arm, “you’re doing fine,” he said comfortingly.

She smiled, but looked away and shook her head, “I dunno…”

“It’s going to take time, and with the  _High Rise_  shoot, then heading to the states for  _I See the Light._  It’s understandable if you need time to adjust.”

“What if I can’t?” she blurted it out without even thinking about it. She looked back at him and saw his face change.

“Can’t what,  _adjust_?” he asked, confused. She shrugged, then slowly nodded. He sighed, glanced around the room, then looked back at her, “I guess…we’ll figure that out when, or if it happens.”

She groaned, frustrated, and threw her book aside, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It had become easier for her to move now, the stiffness in her chest still surprised her every now and then, but overall, she had been healing well. Her new doctor in London, who had been recommended by her doctor back in Aberdeen, had remarked on her progress. Her doctor had told her that as long as they were careful, sex shouldn’t be a problem for her anymore. Shiloh had come home from that appointment and had been about to tell Tom the exciting news, but she had stopped herself, and she still wasn’t sure why. The physical aspect of their relationship was important, she knew that, but she was scared. She knew she had felt different after the attack, after she had watched Jonas slowly bleed to death on her kitchen floor. That fear that bubbled inside her wasn’t the same fear she had dealt with for so many years when she lived alone. This was something new, something she wasn’t used to.

She took a deep breath and looked around the room. From where she sat, she could feel Tom’s eyes on her back, but she didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, she kicked her feet as they hung off the edge of the bed, and stared at the floor. She wondered if he had noticed her change, if he was aware that the anxious fire that used to constantly burn inside her chest and make her heart flutter uncontrollably, was more controllable now.  _He has to have noticed it by now,_  she thought,  _he must have seen something._  Even if he had noticed it, was she prepared to discuss her new attitude towards life with him? Did she even know  _how_  to express the ideas she’d been tossing around lately?

“Shi?” his voice was hesitant, unsure. She turned to one side and glanced over her shoulder at him. He closed his laptop and quickly put it on his night table, then crawled across the bed on his knees, scooting up behind her and snaking his arms around her. She smiled softly, laying her hands on his forearms as they linked together in front of her, just underneath her breasts. His breath was soft and warm on her neck as he nuzzled her. “Tell me what’s bothering you sweetheart,” he breathed.

Shiloh looked around the room, her eyes scanning uncertainly, she felt the tears burning behind her eyes, but she refused to let her lips quiver. She took a deep breath, running her hands up and down his arms, “I love you,” she whispered.

He tightened his grip, “I love you too, Shi,” he said softly, she could feel his bristly scruff against her neck. “You don’t seem yourself. Talk to me.”

She turned towards him, she couldn’t see him clearly where he sat, so close to her, with his chin resting on her shoulder. She tried to look at him, out of the corner of her eye, and felt a shaking breath pass her lips, “you’ve noticed that too?”

He nodded against her, “you’ve been different…since the island,” he said in a low, hushed voice.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his. He flexed his arms around her, holding her as close as he could. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest, it reverberated through her spine. She sighed again, concentrating on the feeling of him against her and how he steadied her. “I feel…” she bit her lip, trying to think of the right word, “ _stronger_.”

She felt him move, and Tom withdrew his arms from around her, and crawled over to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. He took her hands, holding them tightly in his, and she opened her eyes to see him leaning towards her, his bright blue eyes worried and strained. “Are you alright, Shi?” he asked, she could still feel his thudding heartbeats, she could practically see the veins in his neck pulsating.

She smiled and looked down, nodding, “I…” she glanced back up at him. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by them, “I haven’t felt like my  _old_  self…since…since the attack,” she whispered.

Tom nodded, gripping her hands, “I know.”

Shiloh smirked, a tear falling from her eye, her lip trembled on its own, “I…” she stuttered again. She smiled, partly embarrassed, but he touched her face gently and she didn’t feel shame, she felt acceptance. She let herself cry, the tears feeling good in this moment. He watched her cry, holding her face through the tears, until she was able to catch her breath, “I’m  _afraid_ …but it’s different.”

He nodded, she placed her hands over his. He smiled sweetly, “I don’t think you’re afraid, not anymore.”

She looked up at him, her eyes sore, her face tired, “I’m not afraid of  _him_. Not anymore,” she put a shaking hand over her mouth. Gasping for breath, she whispered, “I’m afraid…of what I’m doing to  _you_.”

Tom’s features contorted, the anxious worry fell from his face and was replaced by frustrated confusion. He pulled her closer, leaning his forehead against hers while she continued to cry quietly, “you’re not  _doing_  anything, Shiloh,” his voice was pained. “The only thing you’re  _doing_  to me, is  _loving_  me…right?”

She cried harder at the uncertainty in his voice, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. After a moment, she sat back, pulling her face from his, “you don’t deserve to have all this drama in your life, Tom.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she had suddenly found the resolve within herself that she needed in order to say what she meant. She covered his mouth with her index finger and he was quiet, “you are too sweet, too kind and caring…too…” she took a shuddering breath. “You don’t need this in your life, not when you’ve got so much going for you. You’re a star. You deserve someone who can shine with you, someone who won’t drag you down.”

“Shiloh,” he had found his voice, “we had this talk. I  _love_  you, and that’s not going to change. Any ‘drama’ that we go through – we go through it together. I would give up everything in my life right now; the movies, the red carpet, the theater,  _all_  of it, if it meant I could be with you, and we could be happy.”

She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t work. Her lips shook as she tried to look at him. His fingers trailed down her cheek lightly, “I  _want_  to be happy, Tom. I want _us_  to be happy, but it feels like that will never happen!” she felt hysterical for a moment. Her heart raced dangerously in her ribs, she tried to catch her breath, “one minute I feel fine, like everything is going to be okay. The next moment, it’s like a panic attack, but I’ve never had a panic attack like  _that_. I feel like I’m being torn from within…thinking about everything. I think about the attack. I think about the island, the life I lived there. I think about us, how we met, how things were so different then. I think about…” she struggled for another breath. “About the baby…I think…” she fought through her trembling tears, “I keep thinking that we’re never going to be able to have that again.” She felt a new wave of overpowering sobs building inside her, and knew she wouldn’t be able to say much more, “I don’t want to ruin your life!”

Tom put his hand behind her neck and pulled her into him as her tears overtook her. Shiloh let out a wail, sobbing into his chest as he hugged her to him. He fell back against the headboard, taking her with him, and she leaned into him as she cried. He put an arm around her back, his hand rubbing her softly as she sobbed. His fingers tangled into her hair as she clutched at him, panting, and he held her tightly until she quieted. She felt numb, depleted, as she finally caught her breath and laid against him, listening to his heartbeat.

After a few minutes of silence, Tom still rubbing her back, Shiloh felt like she might be able to sleep for the first time without the drugs her doctor had prescribed her. “I think I need to talk to someone,” she said flatly as they lay there, grasping onto each other.

Tom nodded, she could feel it against her forehead, he still held her tightly in his arms, “whatever you need,” he said softly.

She took a deep breath, “I’m sorry I get like this,” she said quietly, into his chest. “I don’t mean to be such a drama queen.”

She felt him chuckle, in his throat, and she smiled drearily. He cleared his throat, his hands running over her back and arms, rubbing his warmth into her, “you’re not a drama queen.” She began to pull away from him, lifting herself up. She sat up and rubbed her palms into her eyes. Tom watched her intently, and she glanced back at him with a sheepish grin, before he added, “and you’re not ruining my life, sweetheart. You make it  _interesting_ ,” he smirked.


	17. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months have passed, and Shiloh and Tom are in Ireland while he works on High Rise. Shiloh is benefiting from therapy, and ends up showing her improvements to Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: some graphic sex ;)
> 
> Warning: some slight spoilers for High Rise the book, but nothing major

_E! Online, Entertainment News, August 31st, 2014._

_Back in May, entertainment sources were reporting that Avengers & Thor star Tom Hiddleston had taken a long vacation to a secluded Scottish island to escape the busy Hollywood lifestyle for a while, and had actually started seeing someone on the island. That ‘someone’ turned out to be tormented Science-Fiction author Shiloh Winters, who also escaped to that same Scottish island to get away from the harsh eye of the media. Now, three months later, from their home in Ireland, where Tom is on the set of his new movie High Rise, the couple has finally broken their silence about the traumatic ordeal they’ve been through over the last few months. Tom and Shiloh sat down with E!’s own Giuliana Rancic, via Skype, to talk a bit about how they met, and answer a few questions about their blossoming, but dramatic, romance._

_Giuliana Rancic: Hello, Tom and Shiloh, and thank you for talking with us!_

_Tom Hiddleston: Hello, thank you for having us._

_Shiloh Winters: Hi._

_Giuliana: Let me start off by saying, Shiloh, I’m so glad to hear that you are doing better, after your attack in June._   
_Shiloh: Thank you._

_GR: Has it been difficult, trying to heal after something so scary, and also having to get used to the media attention that Tom gets?_

_SW: It’s been…different. I’d say I was used to it, from back when I used to write, but my popularity was nowhere near as gigantic as Tom’s is, so it’s definitely something to get used to._

_TH: She’s doing a great job._

_GR: For those of our readers and viewers who don’t know, you used to publish a series of very popular Science-Fiction novels, in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. The series was called ‘The Darkness Within,’ and it was a fan of those books who attacked you in 2001, right?_

_SW: Right. His name was Albert Jonas, and he was a very unstable, and unfortunate man._

_GR: And he was the same man who attacked you again, this past June, at your home on the Scottish island of Burray?_

_SW: That’s right._

_GR: That must have been terrifying. I think all of us in the entertainment industry fear that sort of encounter with fans, how have you been coping since the attack?_

_SW: I’ve been going to therapy, it’s helped a lot. Tom’s been a huge help, and just having the support of him and my friends and family has made a huge difference in my recovery._

_GR: I’m so glad to hear that you are recuperating well. Tom, you weren’t there, on the island, at the time of the attack, correct?_

_TH: No, I wasn’t. I had just left to make a quick business trip to London._

_GR: Do you think if you had been there, things might have been different?_

_SW: If Tom had been there, then Albert would have attacked him as well, and it’s quite possible that neither of us would be sitting here right now, talking to you._

_GR: The two of you are in Ireland, at the moment, while Tom works on High Rise. What’s it like there in Ireland, Tom? How have your fans been over there?_

_TH: My fans here have been great. There have been so many who have come to visit the set, and there have been so many who have come up and given me gifts and letters and well-wishes for Shiloh. They’ve been so supportive and wonderful, I’m truly blessed._

_GR: Shiloh, in response to your own fans who have come out to support you since Albert Jonas attacked you in June, do you have any response to their begging you for a new ‘Darkness Within’ book?_

_SW: I haven’t started any new material for another book, but I have signed a deal with Universal Pictures for the first book of the series. We’re in talks with directors right now._

_GR: Well that’s exciting! Maybe Tom could star!_

_TH: I think I’d just be happy behind the scenes on that one, ‘The Darkness Within’ is a little too scary for me._

_GR: Now, there have been rumors that the two of you got engaged, then some say you’ve already secretly gotten married, can you clear any of that up for us?_

_SW: Actually, we did get engaged._

_TH: I asked Shiloh to marry me right after she left the hospital. I didn’t really want to announce it or anything, not until we were both ready._

_GR: That’s wonderful! What do you say to those naysayers who say it’s ‘too soon,’ and that you two have only known each other for a few months?_

_TH: I knew when I asked her that is was fast, but I’ve always lived by the idea that I didn’t want to waste time. I didn’t want to grow old, and look back on my life with regret. When I met Shiloh, and we got to know each other, I knew immediately that I wanted her in my life. It took something as terrifying and violent as a physical attack on her life, to get me to realize exactly how important she is to me._

_GR: That’s so romantic. Shiloh, what would you say to Tom’s rabid fans, who are disappointed to see him off the market? Have you heard that some are complaining about you being a decade older than Tom?_

_SW: I have heard. I really don’t think age matters, it’s really just a number. But I’d also say that Tom is still the same guy they were fans of before, and they shouldn’t stop being a fan just because we’re getting married. If they don’t like me, for whatever reason, then I can’t really help that._

_GR: Any plans, for the wedding, have you set a date?_

_TH: No definitive date, yet._

_SW: We’re talking very general, right now._

_GR: Any plans to start a family?_

_TH: My schedule will be clearing a bit in the new year, so we might see what happens._

_GR: We’re so happy for the both of you, and we can’t wait to see High Rise when it hits theaters next year._

**~*~**

Shiloh sat in Tom’s chair behind the cameras, the E! article on her phone, but she was watching Ben and Laurie in front of the screens. Their noses were practically touching the screen as the cameras rolled, but Shiloh couldn’t take her eyes off of Tom, who stood about thirty feet from her.

They were filming the scene in which Robert Laing tries to leave the apartment building, but has a panic attack after stepping outside, and has to rush back into the safety of the complex in order to regain control. She and Tom had been discussing this scene for the last few weeks, after he found out when they’d be filming it, and Shiloh had insisted on being on the set that day. He had used her as his primary source of research, when discussing panic attacks, and the effects they have on people. She had also gone into great detail of her impression of the scene in regards to the rest of the story, and Laing’s personal storyline. He had joked that he felt like he was back in school, when they discussed the book.

Now, as she watched him, he was catching his breath inside a doorway, wiping away frantic tears and looking as pale as a ghost. Shiloh covered her mouth as she watched the horror unfurl upon his face, he had completely immersed himself into the role of Laing. Watching him now, and how easily he went from her-Tom, to actor-Tom, she was amazed at the range he possessed. Not that she was any type of critic, but it gave her goose bumps when she got to see the dailies for the film, and could see the scenes they’d been working on.

The two of them had adjusted quickly to life in Ireland. Their first week had been rough, with Tom jumping right into filming, and Shiloh spending her time looking for a therapist. When she’d found one she was happy with, Dr. Bloom, she had started her therapy as soon as she could. She was diagnosed with the PTSD she had been expecting, and she and her therapist began to work together to find the best way to deal with her diagnosis.

Tom had been more than supportive, but Shiloh had never assumed he’d be anything but. He offered to go to therapy with her, if she needed him to, and he always made himself available if she needed to talk to him, on or off set. As Ben called cut and went to talk to Tom in front of the camera, she smiled to herself, thinking about the previous night they’d had in their rented apartment across the city.

She had made progress in therapy. The exposure therapy technique that Dr. Bloom had suggested had worked better for her than the EMDR therapy had a decade before, and now she was at a point where things had begun to feel normal again. She found herself feeling more content, her emotions were less erratic, and she had even seen a drop in the amount of panic attacks she suffered.

One part of her therapy that had been difficult for both her and Tom, was when Dr. Bloom asked her to abstain from any sexual activity. She had been anxious when she’d told Tom of the request by her doctor, but he had understood. He had agreed that it was for her own good, and it could only benefit their relationship in the long run. The weeks following had been frustratingly lengthy, and even though she thought she was both physically and mentally able to handle intimacy with her partner, she overlooked her urges and she and Tom made due the best they could.

At her most recent session, two nights ago, Dr. Bloom had given her the okay, and she had arrived at their apartment just before Tom texted her to let her know they had finished filming for the day. She got ready to take a shower, looking at herself in the mirror before stepping under the water. Her new scars were healed, they hardly ever hurt her anymore, and she had gotten to the point where she almost didn’t see them anymore. She showered, then slipped into the silky nightgown she had quickly bought after her therapy session. She hastily finished setting up the rest of her surprise for him just as she heard his car pull up.

From the bedroom, she heard his voice call her name as he shut the door behind him. She listened and smiled uncontrollably as she imagined the look on his face when he saw what she’d left for him on table by the door. She had dropped a handful of rose petals on the table, and written on a piece of note paper;  _there’s a surprise for you in the Tolkien._

She listened, biting her lip, as his footsteps went to their small bookshelf on the other side of the living room, where she had stuck another note in the middle of their copy of  _The Hobbit_. She waited, imagining Tom flipping through the pages and finding the next note. Imagining the smirk lit across his face as he read it; _your favorite chocolate is in the fridge._

His footsteps moved from the living room, into the kitchen, and she stifled a giggle as she heard the refrigerator door open. Inside, on the first shelf, next to a small package of his favorite candy, she had left another note;  _take off your shoes and coat, there’s something waiting for you on the bed._

She mentally kicked herself for not planning the small scavenger hunt better, telling herself she should have been able to come up with something more original. When she heard his socked-footsteps creak outside their bedroom door, all misgivings about her charade were forgotten.

Tom opened the door slowly, a look of perplexed dread stapled across his handsome features. Shiloh couldn’t contain her giggle once he saw her laying there on the bed. He let the door fall open as he stared at her. “What are you doing?” he asked, the expression of shock still ever-present.

She giggled, “I’ve got some news,” she said with a grin as she turned and crawled towards the end of the bed.

He stepped towards her slowly. Once he reached the edge of the bed, he stopped, and she sat up on her knees and put her hands on his shoulders, “what’s that?” he asked, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

She bit her lip, looking up at him with doe eyes, “Dr. Bloom thinks it would be fine if we were to resume our sex life.”

Tom’s face softened, and his look of shock slowly morphed into a sly grin, “she does, does she?”

Shiloh nodded with a smile. She felt Tom’s hands crawl up to her waist, and he looked down at her lacy gown. “Do you like it?” she asked.

He looked back up at her, his grin widening. He leaned toward her and caught her lips with his own, devouring her hungrily. She sighed into him, pulling him closer and pressing her breasts against him, the thin fabric of the nightgown unable to disguise her erect nipples. He tore his lips from hers and trailed his kisses down her jaw line to her neck, eliciting moans from her as he kissed. “The gown is lovely,” he whispered in between nips, “but it’d look much better,” he sucked the skin above her collar bone, “on the floor.”

She giggled as he pushed her backward on the bed and crawled over her. She made quick work of his cardigan and jeans, and before long the night gown was on the floor where Tom wanted it. They had both been too eager to go slow, too excited to be nervous, and he had his fingers inside of her before she had even realized what he was doing.

She moaned as he touched her, his long fingers curling deep within her, caressing and rubbing with such abandon that she already felt her orgasm begin to wash over her. Tom sucked at her breast as she called out his name, he kissed his way down her stomach and lapped at her sensitive wetness until she cried out again, then he crawled back up her body, and she guided him into her.

His thrusts were slow at first, reservations that she wouldn’t be ready still in the back of his mind. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he hovered a few inches above her, and linked her feet behind his ass. “Tom,” she breathed as he pushed back into her, his eyes fluttering. He looked at her, the anxiety clearly etched into those blue eyes, but she just smiled. “We haven’t had sex in over three months,” she felt him stop moving, he looked at her like she might cry, but she grinned up at him devilishly, “fuck me like you haven’t seen me in three months.” Her voice was powerful, and after a second, he grinned back at her. He leaned down and kissed her, then propped himself up on his arms and withdrew from her almost entirely. She waited with bated breath, until he slammed back into her and she called out, “yes!”

He pounded into her recklessly, she begged him not to stop, as his pumping became more and more erratic. She felt him pulse within her, knew he was close, but she just needed a few more thrusts and she would be there too. “Don’t stop baby,” she breathed, and he covered her mouth with his own, his tongue exploring her mouth fervently. She felt her second orgasm wash over her, and arched her back into him as she heard him groan loudly and release deep within her. He went limp, and fell to his side, holding her tightly.

Their breathing subsided, and he pulled out of her. She leaned her head on his chest, her arm flung across his stomach, “that was…unexpected,” he said hoarsely.

She chuckled and looked up at him, “sorry it was so short.”

He grinned, “you haven’t asked me to fuck you like that in a long time.”

Shiloh leaned her chin on his chest as she looked up at him, he ran his fingers through her hair lightly. She closed her eyes and sighed, “I’ve missed that.”

“Fucking?” he asked with a naughty grin.

She looked at him and smirked, “ _sex_ , in general.”

“How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she cooed, “more than fine, really. I haven’t felt this good since we were back in Burray.” She rolled off of him and onto her back.

He turned onto his side, propping his head on an arm as he looked her up and down. “So does this mean you’re almost done with therapy?” he asked after a minute.

She smirked at him, then glanced up at the ceiling and shrugged, “soon, I think. Dr. Bloom wants to have at least one more session. She wants to meet you.”

His eyes darted up to meet hers, “like, have a session  _with_  me?” Shiloh nodded. Tom considered this for a minute, then nodded passively, “that could be good for us.”

“I think it will be.”

“What did she say,” he asked, stretching out on his back next to her, sliding an arm under her shoulders and pulling her against him again, “about the interview we just did?”

Shiloh chuckled against his chest and the vibrations tickled, “she said she probably wouldn’t have approved of it, if we had asked her. But she was glad to hear that we both spoke highly of my therapy, and weren’t afraid to be public about it.”

She felt Tom nod above her. “How do you feel, about the interview?”

She contemplated for a moment, running her fingertips over the flesh of his belly.  _He’s lost so much weight for this movie,_  she thought. “It went by rather fast. She just fired those questions at us, didn’t she?”

He nodded again, she pulled herself up to rest her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He was watching her, out of the corner of his eye, “a lot of interviewers are like that.”

Now it was her turn to nod, “it’s just been a long time, since anyone interviewed me about anything, let alone my  _love life_.”

“Well you handled it beautifully.” She smiled and he rolled her over to kiss her softly.

They got up and showered together, Shiloh didn’t tell him that she had only just showered about half an hour before he had walked through the door. She enjoyed feeling carefree again, basking in the giddiness of being in love. He pressed her up against the tiled wall of the shower and held her hands up above her as he kissed her. The hot water streaming over them acted as a stimulant, and soon she lifted a leg around his hips and he pushed back inside of her with ease. She smirked to herself as he licked her jaw, tugged at her earlobe, because one of her lifelong fantasies had always been to have sex up against a wall. She had never told him that.

They fell asleep that night, both spent and pleasantly sore. Tom had to get up early for the next day, and Shiloh had planned to go to the set with him, so she groggily poured herself a cup of coffee that morning as he rushed around getting his scripts and other paperwork together before they left.

Now, as she watched them reshoot the same scene for the umpteenth time, she watched Tom go through Laing’s distraught emotions one more time, before Ben called it a night. Tom walked over to her, and she stood up to meet him with a smile. He kissed her softly, holding her to him at her waist. When he pulled his lips from hers, he whispered into her mouth, “what did you think?”

She smiled radiantly, “I think you are startlingly versatile.”

He pulled back a few inches to smile at her, obviously touched. “You weren’t incredible bored?”

She shook her head, “not in the slightest. I do have to tell you something…”

His smile faltered, “what’s wrong?”

She chuckled, “nothing’s wrong, Tom. But Dr. Bloom asked if you would be able to make it to my next session, the day after tomorrow. Do you think you could get an hour off, around one-ish?”


	18. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom goes with Shiloh to her therapist for a joint session, to talk about Shiloh's progress with managing her PTSD after the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is a therapy section, mainly dealing with PTSD and its treatment - I am not a therapist, and I’ve never had PTSD, so some of what I wrote might be completely wrong, but I tried to do as much research as I could…

Tom was anxious about the appointment with Dr. Bloom, he couldn’t hide that. He had been edgy the whole morning as he and Shiloh had eaten breakfast together in their small kitchen, with him staring at his pages for the day’s scenes, but barely reading them at all. He took a mechanical bite of his toast as Shiloh put her empty plate in the sink and left the room to get dressed. Tom watched her leave out of the corner of his eye, then leaned his head back and sighed up to the ceiling.

He had no problem with therapy; he had meant it when he had said he was glad it was working for her. Part of him still felt apprehensive of meeting the mysterious Dr. Bloom, and finding out what she thought of him. He assumed that Shiloh had talked about him with her therapist, but he wasn’t sure.  _What if she disapproves of my lifestyle and says it’s a bad idea for Shiloh to be with me?_  He asked himself. He smirked nervously, chuckling absurdly to himself, as if this doctor’s words were now law, and Shiloh would obey whatever command the doctor gave her.

He got dressed as Shiloh settled in on the living room sofa with the book she’d been reading, and when he was ready to go, he leaned over her to kiss her goodbye. She looked up at him, smirking, and tugged at the front of his shirt as he leaned down to her. She pressed her soft lips against his, her hand snaked up his neck and into the hair at the back of his head, and he breathed heavily against her. She pulled back from him, but still held him close, looking up at him with those big chocolate eyes, “you’re gonna be fine,” she whispered encouragingly.

He nodded, smiling, kissed her once more, then forced himself to leave with his work bag full of notes and script pages. He jogged out of the apartment and down to the driver who was waiting to take him to the set, and glanced at his watch once he sat down and closed the door. He had already checked with Ben and Laurie that it was alright if he left the set early, and Ben had said it wouldn’t be a problem. They were going to be working on Jeremy’s scenes in the afternoon anyway. He took a deep breath and sighed slowly, doing his best to shake away his nerves so that he could focus on the scenes he had to do today, and wait out the hours until he would be meeting Shiloh at her doctor’s office.

**~*~**

“How was the shoot?” Shiloh asked when he got out of the car and started walking over to her. She was leaning against the side of the rental car they used when he wasn’t working, and she smirked at him as he neared.

“It was fine,” he said calmly, placing his hand lightly on her arm and leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. She gripped his hand and squeezed, he could feel her nervous jitters vibrate through her fingers. “How was your day?” he asked as he leaned back to look at her.

She smiled, she looked nauseous. She shrugged and glanced over at the office building where her doctor’s office was, “you nervous?”

He smiled and nodded, unabashedly, “you?”

She nodded quickly and laughed as she looked down at the ground. She let out a frustrated sigh and he took her hand in his, holding her close to him as they walked into the building. They found Dr. Bloom’s office, and the receptionist had them sit in the waiting room for a few minutes before the doctor came out.

“Shiloh, Tom,” a cool, deep voice startled him when she entered the room. Dr. Bloom was an older woman, probably around his own mother’s age, with long dark hair wrapped up into a tight bun at the back of her head. She wore thick glasses that sat on the end of her nose, and was dressed in what he remembered being referred to as a “power suit” back in the day.

Shiloh stood up and went to greet Dr. Bloom, and Tom followed her. She turned and introduced them, motioning towards Tom as she said, “this is Tom.” He smiled as nonchalantly as he could, and the doctor smiled kindly back at him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tom,” she said as she shook his hand.

“Pleasure, Dr. Bloom,” he said tersely, swallowing down the anxiety bubbling up from his stomach.

“Please,” she laughed, “call me Amanda. Shall we?” she ushered them towards the door of her office, Shiloh turned to Tom as they followed the therapist. He caught her eye and smirked reassuringly, placing his hand at the small of her back as she walked in front of him. They entered the doctor’s office, and as Amanda shut the door behind them, Tom glanced around. The prerequisite documents were framed on the wall behind the desk, with various shelves of heavy books lined along the walls nearby.

On the other side of the room sat a set of chairs, a couch, and the type of reclined sofa that Tom always associated with therapist offices; where the patient leans back and tells the doctor everything that ever happened to them as a child, and how it resulted in the problems plaguing them in adulthood.

Shiloh took one of the empty seats, and Tom sat down in the chair next to her, as Dr. Bloom gathered a notebook from her desk and brought it with her to the seat across from them. She sat down, smiled at them, and got situated in her chair. After a moment, she looked at Shiloh, who was sitting quietly, watching Tom as he looked around the room.

Dr. Bloom turned to watch him too, and Tom was brought back from his assessment of the room by the feeling of eyes on him. When he looked, both the women were watching him, and Shiloh had a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. Tom smiled nervously, and began to unconsciously fiddle with his fingers in his lap.

“So, Tom,” Dr. Bloom started, “this is your first time visiting a therapist?”  
He nodded quicker than he had meant to, “yes ma’am.”

“Nervous?”

He laughed shakily, “it’s that obvious?”

The doctor smirked, “there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re just here to talk. Just a friendly chat.”

He glanced over at Shiloh, she was wearing an anxious smile that he assumed was akin to his own. He looked back at Dr. Bloom and sighed quietly, “you’re American as well?” He heard himself ask the question, but was thrown off by his off-subject train of thought.

The doctor’s smirk turned into a smile, “an interesting coincidence that your American fiancé found an American therapist in the middle of Northern Ireland?”

Tom heard Shiloh snigger to herself. He smiled and nodded, glancing around the room again, “you have a nice office.”

Dr. Bloom just smiled, “thank you.” She watched him for a moment, Tom felt himself begin to squirm, she grinned and asked, “what makes you so uncomfortable, Tom?” He shrugged, unable to grasp the answer himself, she smiled wider and nodded, “you’re not the first spouse, or significant other, to be anxious to meet the therapist of their loved one. But I’m not here to ruin your relationship or convince Shiloh to break up with you.”

He glanced at her; her peaceful, easy grin surprising him.  _What, am I that transparent?_  He asked himself. He glanced over at Shiloh, but she just sat in her chair quietly, a small smile creeping across her lips. He looked back at the doctor, “I guess…” he stuttered, “I guess I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Well,” Dr. Bloom nodded, crossing her legs and holding onto the notebook in her lap, “we’re here to talk about Shiloh, and the progress she’s made over the last couple of months. That should be something you are eager to discuss.”

“It is,” he felt himself smirk in his intensity, “I’m very happy that the therapy is helping her with her PTSD. And I’m glad to meet you finally, Dr. Bloom.”

“Please Tom, call me Amanda,” the older woman insisted with a pleasant grin. “And yes, Shiloh has made great improvement in dealing with her PTSD. I’m sure you’ve noticed that as well. She’s learned some valuable tools for managing her symptoms, I’m sure she’s told you some of it.”

He glanced over at Shiloh, who was staring down at her knees. Taking a calming breath, he looked back at the doctor, “I guess what I’m most concerned about is just knowing that Shiloh is going to be alright. She hasn’t told me much, other than the fact that she’s been feeling better, which I have noticed. I’m relieved that she seems more like her old self again.”

“Like the woman you knew back on the island?” the doctor asked, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

He nodded quickly, “yes.”

“I’m glad you brought that up, but I’m interested…Shiloh,” the doctor shifted her gaze from Tom, to Shiloh, who looked up at her, a look of stressed embarrassment etched into her eyes. Dr. Bloom looked at her questioningly, “is there a reason you haven’t gone into detail about your therapy with your fiancé?”

Shiloh made a sideways glance towards Tom, but didn’t meet his eyes. She folded her hands nervously in her lap and fidgeted in her seat, “no specific reason. I just wanted to get a grasp on things before I started telling him what we had been discussing.”

Dr. Bloom nodded, “since I told you at our last session that you wouldn’t need to see me on a regular basis anymore, I assumed you would’ve felt comfortable enough by now to discuss with Tom the exercises we’ve used to help you cope with your panic attacks and guilt.”

“Guilt?” Tom asked, confused.

The doctor smirked at him, but put a finger up to halt his inquiry. She turned back to Shiloh, “is there anything else you haven’t told Tom, Shiloh? We’re here to discuss your well-being, because we care about you. I think Tom deserves to be on the same page as the rest of us.”

Shiloh turned to Tom, biting her bottom lip furiously, he could see the worry lines carved into her forehead as she searched for the right words. She released her bottom lip, it was raw and pink from her nervous nibbling, then took a shaking breath, “I never told you what happened before, what I…tried to do…after the first attack,” she started.

“Peyton did,” he said flatly.

Shiloh’s eyes bulged. Her lip shook and a hand rushed to cover her mouth, gaping at him in horror, “she  _did_? When?”

“In the hospital, the day you woke up. She wanted me to break it off with you, because of my career.”

Shiloh turned away and he heard her stifle a sob into her palm. She took a few quaking breaths and choked down her tears. She looked back at the doctor who was watching them, then turned back to Tom, “I’m sorry I never told you,” she said in a tiny voice.

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the conversation I had with Peyton.”

She smiled softly at him, but still looked so worried; he thought she might get sick. Dr. Bloom cleared her throat and jotted something down in her notebook. When she was done writing, she looked back up at Tom, “I’m glad we’re getting some things off our chests. It’s a good way to move forward, to clear the air and grow, both as individuals, and as a couple. Now Tom, you mentioned the island.”

Tom felt a rush of thoughts whirl through his brain again, an overwhelming barrage of questions. He put up a hand and stuttered for a moment, “w-wait, I’m sorry. Can you explain the  _guilt_  thing? What would Shiloh have to feel guilty about?”

“Many of my patients who suffer from PTSD have a degree of guilt that they don’t understand. The feeling of guilt usually stems from the idea that they could have prevented, in some way, what happened to them. Sometimes they feel that others might see them differently if they knew exactly what had happened, others feel that if they had known what was going to happen, they could have reacted differently, and things would have turned out better. Part of our therapy was getting Shiloh to acknowledge and accept that there was nothing she could have done to prevent Albert from attacking her, because she is unable to predict the future, and could never have known that he would set out to find her again after the attack in 2001.”

Tom’s eyes felt like they were about to bulge right out of their sockets. He blinked at the doctor, who just watched him quietly, then he turned to Shiloh, who had regained control of herself, but looked incredibly pale and ashamed. “Shi,” he hissed, stunned, “I had no idea you felt that way.” She tried to smirk, but her face contorted awkwardly, and she shrugged and nodded solemnly.

“It’s a common, misplaced feeling, of almost every patient who suffers from PTSD,” the doctor said serenely. Tom looked back at her, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I want to talk about the island now, Tom. I want to hear your point of view. Shiloh and I have talked extensively about it, but I want to know what you think, as the person who knows her the best. What do you think the island did for her?”

He raised an eyebrow, scrunching his brow as he considered her question. He leaned forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in front of his face. “I think,” he concentrated on a spot just to the side of where Dr. Bloom was sitting, “that the island made her feel safe, after the first attack. I think she wanted to escape, from her public life and from whatever reminded her of what had happened, so she found the tiny island,  _far_  away from it all. It was isolated, and she could control who she let into her life, if anyone. She didn’t have to deal with any social engagements, and she could shut herself off from the world if she wanted to, or stay connected to it via her internet or phone, but it was all in her own control, which she didn’t have when Albert attacked her in 2001.”

Dr. Bloom smirked, “a very insightful analysis, I must say.”  
He nodded, but didn’t feel like smiling, “I also think, that when I came into her life, I ruined any hope for isolation, or privacy, that she might have had.”

He felt Shiloh look at him quickly, it took him a moment to gather the courage to look back at her. Her eyes were full of tears, but she didn’t look like she was going to cry. She looked invigorated, defiant. “You didn’t  _ruin_  anything, Tom. You snapped me out of the funk I was living in. You reminded me that I couldn’t continue living like that.” He clenched his teeth together to control his breathing, unsure if he trusted himself to respond.

“As you can see, Tom,” the doctor cut in, “Shiloh’s own thoughts about her years sheltered on that island have changed over the last few weeks. Shiloh, would you agree that, right now, you don’t miss that degree of isolation that you once had?”

Shiloh took a deep breath, “I know that, while I was living there, I was trying to escape. I was trying to ignore what had happened and forget about it, but there is no forgetting about what happened to me. I can’t go back and change anything. I know that shutting myself away wasn’t healthy, and even though I thought I was doing well; that I was keeping my relationships with the people I love, even if it was only via a text, or a phone call, or an email…but that isn’t how you live your life. I do feel better about being ‘back in the world,’ now. I feel more…alive, than before, and part of that is because of my relationship with Tom…but part of it is because of the therapy, and because I’m not shut away like a hermit anymore.”

“You don’t regret leaving?” Tom felt himself ask, hurriedly, glancing at her. “I worried that you resented me for dragging you away from your home, and thrusting you into the city. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because I move around a lot, and lead the busy life that I do.”

“You didn’t  _drag_  me anywhere, Tom,” she laughed breathlessly, looking at him. “I couldn’t stay there in that house. Even if you and I hadn’t been…together, I still wouldn’t be able to go back and live there. Not after what happened.”

“Be specific, Shiloh,” the doctor interrupted, “generalizations don’t help.”

Shiloh took a deep breath, gripping her hands together tightly, then looked from her therapist, to Tom. “After Albert stabbed me, after I watched him die there…after Barley died there…I couldn’t have stayed in that house and pretended nothing had happened. I’m just lucky enough to have had someone with me at the time, someone who wanted to help me, and be with me, through all this crazy bullshit.”

He watched her, eyes glued to her as she spoke. It took him a moment to realize she had finished talking, and she turned to look at him. He was speechless because of her bold honesty; it was shocking to see that side of her. He smiled sweetly, “I’m blessed,” he said quietly, keeping her gaze, “to be that person for you.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, Shiloh’s anxieties slowly fell from her soft features, and Tom reached his arm over towards her and she met his hand half way. They linked their fingers together, and Dr. Bloom smiled at them. She cleared her throat after another minute, then turned back towards Tom, “Shiloh is very lucky, to have someone as understanding and patient as you, Tom. Many patients with PTSD are not as fortunate. I want to go over some of the tools that I’ve taught Shiloh, to help her manage her anxiety and PTSD, so that you not only know what the symptoms are, but also how to help her, should she have another episode.”

Tom watched her intently, still holding Shiloh’s hand tightly in his own, “should I take notes?” He felt silly asking.

Dr. Bloom smiled and slowly shook her head, “I’ll have a print out for you to take home.”

He nodded, “alright. I’m ready, I want to learn.”

He heard Shiloh snicker quietly, he glanced over at her with a grin and she was watching him with such a look of appreciation in her teary eyes, that he felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. He tore his eyes away from her, but held her fingers tightly within his own, as Dr. Bloom began to speak, “I’m sure in the weeks since the attack you noticed some of the symptoms, whether Shiloh experienced them all or not isn’t important. But just because she is managing her PTSD now, and is doing well, doesn’t mean that she won’t suffer from symptoms later on. They can come out of nowhere, and can include nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks, and even dissociation.”

“Dissociation?” he asked, he felt Shiloh’s hand grip tighter on his own.

Dr. Bloom nodded, “it’s similar to a flashback, but much more potent. The patient might feel like he or she is back in the moment of trauma, as if they are reliving it all over again. That can be a very terrifying thing to go through, and sometimes can happen for no reason at all. Sometimes we have no idea what triggers it. There are techniques to help manage all of these symptoms. One thing that we’ve discussed, that Shiloh learned when she went to therapy years ago, were breathing exercises to help when she feels a panic attack coming on.”

“Is there any way to know what could trigger a panic attack?” he didn’t want to interrupt the doctor too much, but he was desperate to know if there was something he could do to prevent Shiloh from going through any of these horrible symptoms.

“Panic attacks can be triggered at the most random of moments. Everyone is different, but Shiloh and I have discussed the fact that her anxieties become more prevalent and threatening when she is around large crowds.”

“I thought it might have something to do with the crowds that I used to see at my book signings,” Shiloh chimed in, in a small voice, but she sounded confident, “like the one Albert attacked me at.”

“One breathing exercise is just calm breathing, which is pretty self-explanatory, and easy to do, no matter where she might be. Another exercise we’ve practiced is called progressive muscle relaxation. Basically, it’s going through each of her muscles, and physically and mentally relaxing each of them. She will need to be in a calm and quiet environment when she’s doing this.”

Shiloh cleared her throat, “if I do have a dissociated moment, it’s best to just sit me down, speak quietly, and try to keep my eyes open so I can concentrate, breathe, and ground myself.”

He turned to her, “ _ground_  yourself?”

She nodded, gently squeezing his hand, but the doctor took over again, “grounding is a helpful technique for flashbacks and dissociation. It helps bring the patient out of the incident they are reliving, and bring them back into the present moment. It’s a form of distracting the mind from the traumatic event it’s focusing on, and redirecting that focus onto the moment you are in, to bring you back to reality. Easy exercises such as just describing the room around you, touching and naming items that are in the room, or naming different animals or flowers, sometimes even just reciting the alphabet backwards, are all examples of grounding techniques.”

“There might be times when I need to be reminded that I’m losing touch,” Shiloh sounded embarrassed.

“And as we said, Tom, Shiloh has made wonderful progress during our sessions. There is a possibility that she will have little to no symptoms from now on. I believe that her therapy years ago, after her first attack, helped her greatly when it came to recuperating from this recent attack. But we never know when someone is going to relapse, or suffer from a panic attack, or have a dissociative moment, and it’s not something anyone can plan or predict.”

Tom felt himself nodding so much he almost felt dizzy, there was so much information to take in. He ran his free hand over his eyes quickly, and ran his palm down over his mouth, glancing up at the ceiling.

“I know it’s a lot of information to take in,” Dr. Bloom continued, he glanced back at her, “I’ll be sending you home with paperwork on all the exercises we’ve talked about. And Shiloh knows what to do when she is suffering from a panic attack or flashback, but it is important for her spouse to understand what is happening and how best to deal with it.”

He nodded, “I know,” he said quietly, “I want to help her as much as I can.”

“You already have,” Shiloh’s voice was still small, but when he looked at her, she was beaming. He grinned back and she gripped his hand tightly.

“One thing that is unique to your situation,” the doctor cut in, both Tom and Shiloh turned to look at her, “is living in the public eye. I know that there is a level of privacy to celebrities and their families, but there is also the public life that you lead, Tom. It’s hard for anyone to adjust to that level of fame, and people wanting to know everything they can about you. But it’s even harder for someone suffering from something like PTSD to adjust to. You are both going to have to navigate your public and private lives in such a way that won’t interfere with Shiloh’s recovery.”

“I try to keep my private life private, I always have,” he suddenly felt defensive, but tried to swallow that guilty mechanism down and contain it.

“Whose idea was it to do the  _E!_  interview last week?” Dr. Bloom asked, a trace of a smirk on her thin lips.

Tom glanced at Shiloh, who looked at him, then back at her doctor, “we  _both_ decided to,” she answered.

The doctor nodded, jotting something in her notes, “but you agree, that what was discussed in the interview wasn’t exactly keeping things private?”

Shiloh was on the defense this time, Tom looked over at her as she shifted in her chair, “I wanted people to know that I was alright. I wanted my fans and Tom’s fans to know…” She stumbled over her words again, but took a breath and stammered, “I don’t want people to think of me as ‘Tom Hiddleston’s beleaguered wife.’ I don’t want them to look at me and say ‘oh that poor woman, she’s got so many problems,’ and think that I’m ruining his life. I want to be his _wife_ , not his  _poor_  wife.”

“Do you think I care what people  _say_  about us?” Tom asked.

Shiloh looked over at him, “I try not to care what they say, but it still bothers me. I want you and I to have as normal a life as we can, which I know is a pipe-dream.”

Tom smirked, “we can make it work, Shi. It’s just a matter of setting boundaries.”

She nodded, looking back down at her knees. Dr. Bloom cleared her throat and took advantage of their momentary silence, “there is one more aspect of your lifestyle that concerns me, Tom. Your public persona insists that you be somewhat available to your fans. Shiloh has experience with that type of public persona, from her own fame, but things are different now. I’ve heard about some of the dubious encounters with fans that have happened during the filming of  _High Rise,_  and I know that every actor who has reached your level of fame, at one point or another, gains at least one or two fans who are at the level of obsession that we would diagnose as clinical.”

“What does that mean?” Tom cocked his head for a moment.

Dr. Bloom sighed, looking down at her notes, “I mean that, if you look at Shiloh’s career thirteen years ago, you will see the perfect example of what _could_  happen. You’ll also see exactly what Shiloh is afraid of.”

He was confused; he looked from the doctor, to Shiloh. She was still holding his hand, but her nervous expression had returned, and she looked afraid to make eye contact. He asked in a pained voice, “Shi? Are you afraid of my fans?”

She finally did look at him then, “no. No, I’m not afraid of your fans Tom, I’m…I –” she stuttered, fumbling anxiously again. “I see how much they love you, how…. _excited_  they are to see you, and…I mean you know how my  _insane_ imagination gets away with me, and how I worry about things that haven’t even happened…”

“Do you think something is going to happen?” he held onto her hand, not wanting to lose the contact with her for fear that she wouldn’t look at him if he did.

She shook her head, leaning her forehead into her palm, pressing into it and rubbing away the beginnings of a headache, “I just…”

“Take your time to form your thoughts, Shiloh,” Dr. Bloom said soothingly, “what is the thing you worry about the most, your number one thought at this moment?”

Tom glanced over at the doctor, but then quickly looked back at Shiloh. She looked over at him out of the corner of her eyes, then looked down at her lap, “I worry about people like that guy who came to the set in the beginning of July, the one who wouldn’t leave.”

He smiled feebly, “security took care of him, and then we moved filming,” he urged, “he wasn’t a dangerous –”

“I know,” she said quickly, looking at him more intensely, “I know he wasn’t. But what if, down the road, there is someone dangerous, and you’re taking pictures, or signing autographs, and…” she trailed off and covered her mouth as she tried to conceal her trembling chin.

“Shiloh,” he shifted in his chair so he could lean closer to her, putting his other hand over hers, trying to get her to look back at him. She shook her head and breathed deeply, trying to hold in the tears. He tried to speak as soothingly as he could, “I  _always_  have security with me; they check everyone out before I even get there. We are  _always_  safe.” She glanced at him, blinking away rogue tears, he rubbed her hand softly, “nothing is going to happen - it won’t be like your book signing.”

She scrunched her brow and took a difficult breath, pulling her hand from his and running both her palms over her face and then up into her hair. She put her face in her hands and leaned her elbows on her knees.

“You can understand her fear, can’t you Tom?” Dr. Bloom asked. He had almost forgotten she was still sitting in front of them, watching them. “She fears what happened to her, could happen to you. It’s not a completely unfounded fear, based on her experience. But at the same time,” the doctor turned her attention back to Shiloh, who was finally gaining control of herself, “ _Shiloh_.” She looked up at her therapist with pink, teary eyes, and the doctor continued soothingly, “things have changed in the last thirteen years. Many celebrities and public figures have much better security personnel than they did when you were attacked. As long as you and Tom take the necessary precautions, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Shiloh nodded quickly, ran her hands over her face again, sat back quickly in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh. “Amanda,” she said in a forced tone, trying her best to keep her composure, “I had one more question.”

“About the issue of security and the possibility of obsessive fans?” the doctor asked.

Shiloh shook her head. She looked over at Tom, trying to smile at him, then looked back at the therapist, “about…if I should start writing again.”

Dr. Bloom smiled brightly. It was a surprising gesture from the woman who had kept her composure and serene nature throughout the entire conversation. Tom was shocked at her hearty laugh and how happy she looked when she beamed back at Shiloh, “of  _course_  I think you should start writing again! Writing is an  _amazing_  tool for recovery. Whether you want to go back to writing science-fiction, or write about your personal ordeal, or try something new like a children’s book or a romance novel – it’s a  _wonderful_  idea, Shiloh. I’m glad to finally hear you express some interest in your craft.”

Shiloh smiled a tiny smile, and Tom reached over to her again. She looked over at his outstretched hand, then up to his bright blue eyes, her own still pink from the tears she fought to suppress. After a moment, she reached over and took his hand, he squeezed her fingers, and she smiled vibrantly.

**~*~**

Half an hour later, after saying goodbye to Dr. Bloom, Tom was driving the rental car that Shiloh had driven to the office, and the two of them were cruising through the streets of Belfast. Shiloh had made another appointment to see her therapist one more time before they were to leave Ireland, but it wasn’t for another two weeks, and until then, she said she wanted to spend as much time with Tom as she could. She knew as well as he did that that would be difficult, as the last few weeks of filming were going to be rather hectic, but he put his arm around her as he drove, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, and they made plans to have a real date night.

As they drove, Shiloh realized they weren’t on their regular route towards their apartment across town. She didn’t recognize where he was taking them, mostly due to the fact that she didn’t go out much on her own, except to go to the market near their home, or to her doctors. She watched the buildings and landmarks as they rolled by, and sat up when she caught a glimpse of something in the distance.

“Where are we going?” she asked, a hint of that nervous tremor in her voice.

Tom smiled, “I planned a little surprise for you, once we were done at your doctors.”

She turned to him and grinned, “what kind of surprise?”

He kept his eyes on the road, smirking as he drove, “well, I know how boring this trip has been for you.”

“It has not,” she laughed, “I love seeing you at work.”

“Shi,” he scoffed, “you’ve been to the set  _three_  times in the past two months.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the bench seat of the old sedan, “I was busy with therapy.”

He chuckled, “you weren’t that busy with therapy. I know it’s because you’re uncomfortable with the crowds outside the set.”

She glanced at him, but he was still smiling. She grinned suspiciously, “so where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” he grinned, “but it’s something you’ve been missing.”  
She furrowed her brow, then turned back to look out the window. As they neared what she had glimpsed between the buildings, she suddenly realized where he was taking her. They had been this close to it during their entire stay in Ireland, and she had completely forgotten about it.

Tom found a parking space and they got out of the car, Shiloh waited until he walked around to her side of the car, and took her hand, before she started to move. She was captivated by the view in front of her, but also partly apprehensive of it. Tom took her hand and pulled her gently. As they walked he watched her, she practically bounced as they walked.

When she stepped onto the sand, she kicked her slip-ons off immediately. She felt Tom’s hand loosen on hers, and glanced quickly over her shoulder at him as the wind tugged at her hair. She left her shoes sitting where she’d kicked them, and Tom watched as she pulled her hair band out and let her long curly tresses loose.

The sun was low behind the billowing clouds, but enough light was emitting through the fluffy white puffs to blind her temporarily as she neared the sound of the rushing water. Her toes hit the wet sand and she jumped when the cold water rushed up over her feet. She brought a hand up to her forehead to brush hair from her face, looking out over the ocean as it ebbed and flowed in front of her. She looked back at Tom, who was watching her from a few yards behind, smiling. She let out a lighthearted laugh as the wind whipped her hair around in a whirl, and she turned back to gaze out at the pink sky as the sun crawled across it. She listened to the rush of the waves, the crashing of the water as it ran up and down the edge of the sand, and she turned and looked down the beach.

For a moment she was back on Burray, the smell of the ocean wafting through the air and permeating through the walls of her home. Barley barking as he ran across the sand with his favorite stick lolling from his mouth. She could see the trail that led through the trees and up to her house, and she could see the big rocks she would sit on to watch the sun set behind the waves. She could see herself and Tom, strolling along the edge of the water, hand in hand, with the dog playing close behind them, she could hear the whistle of the wind as it sailed across the ocean and up into the open windows of the tiny cottage she had called home once. The evenings spent in that tiny house rushed back to her; the laughter and giggles, the moans of passion, the afternoons of reading and lounging – an entire lifetime of sounds, scents, and scenes billowed through her mind in a flash, a dizzying whirl.

When Tom came up behind her and gently slipped his arms around her waist, she smiled and let out a stifled cry, suddenly remembering that she wasn’t on Burray anymore. It came back to her, where they were, and how they had gotten there, and she gripped his arms tightly as he held her close. She smiled widely at the beautiful scene in front of them, and at the stirring memories flooding into her, then she spun around in his arms and kissed him.

“I thought you might have missed the ocean,” he whispered into her mouth, holding her face in his hands.

She smiled against his kisses, “it’s  _wonderful_  Tom. I feel like I’m home, like it’s filling me up and taking every worry and fear away, carrying them off with the wind.”

He leaned back and beamed down at her, “you’re an amazing woman, did you know that?”

She smirked up at him, her hair whipping behind her, “you’re that puzzle piece I was missing for so long, the one who makes me complete.”  
He leaned his forehead against hers, and they stood like that, the wind twirling through their hair, the water flowing soothingly behind them, and the sun silhouetting them in a grand, eternal moment.


	19. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing the High Rise shoot, Tom and Shiloh return back to London before heading to the states so he can start "I Saw the Light," and they receive a bit of exciting news before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Despite all the drama and talking, there's still a scene of explicit sex, because Tom and Shiloh can't keep their hands off of each other.

The  _High Rise_  shoot wrapped in the middle of September, and Tom and Shiloh took advantage of the unexpected free time by returning to London as quickly as they could. She had her last session with Dr. Bloom, and the studio took care of their rental agreement for the apartment in Belfast. While Tom wasn’t due to head to Louisiana until the beginning of October, he and Shiloh relished in the idea that they had a few weeks to themselves, with nothing to do but relax and be together.

Once the shoot had ended, Tom was able to unwind, and as soon as they’d gotten back home, he became the happy, vibrant man she had fallen for. The city calmed him, she could see it in his eyes as soon as he woke up on their first morning home. It wasn’t long before that feisty glint returned to those sapphire eyes; he would come up behind her as she was making coffee, or surprise her as she was looking out the window. His arms would meander around her waist, sometimes his hands would crawl up and nestle between her breasts, his palms pressing lightly against her breastbone. She would place her own hands over his, and he would lean his chin on her shoulder and nuzzle her neck. She imagined those large hands of his, with their soft, calming nature, relieving the pain and discomfort from the wounds she had accumulated on her chest. She could feel the healed scars pressing against his palms, and would close her eyes and lean her head against his as they stood there.

In the following weeks in their London home, Shiloh allowed herself to relax and unwind in a way she hadn’t been able to in years. She slowly became more used to city life; she and Tom found time to actually do normal things, which made her smile gleefully. She would walk with him to the store, and as they walked hand in hand, she couldn’t help but look around, wondering if someone would notice them. After a while, she stopped looking, she started breathing easier, and her panic attacks were almost nonexistent.

Before long, Tom’s family came to visit them. Shiloh had been nervous that his mother wouldn’t approve of her son being involved with a woman ten years his senior, but Diana adored Shiloh as soon as she met her. She didn’t care about the age difference, she was overjoyed to see her son so happy and in love. Diana reminded Shiloh greatly of Tom’s father Jim, and wondered silently to herself what had happened that caused them to divorce when Tom had been a teenager. His younger sister Emma called to say she couldn’t make it over to meet her soon to be sister-in-law before their trip, but that she was excited to meet her when they came back to London. Tom reassured Shiloh that it wasn’t personal, Emma had a very busy schedule.

Tom still had work to do, even if he had a few weeks off before their trip to the states, and Shiloh was in awe of how much effort he put into the upcoming role. He spent hours practicing his guitar work, he would go to a nearby studio and work with his vocal coach to expand his singing abilities, and she became extremely familiar with the music of Hank Williams, as Tom would play his songs over and over practically every day.

Despite their new calm life, both Shiloh and Tom knew it wouldn’t last. Although he hadn’t yet made any definitive plans for after the  _I Saw the Light_  shoot, she knew that the movie was going to take its toll on him, and even though he was excited to get started filming, he was anxious about it as well. She could see the nervous jitters pulsate through him when they would be eating dinner, or when he would join her on the couch to read for a while, and he wouldn’t be able to sit still. He would sit there, crossing and re-crossing his legs, fiddling with his hair, or playing with the buttons of his shirt, as he tried to read the latest book of poetry he had discovered from her collection.

She smirked at him, “got ants in your pants?” she giggled.

He looked up at her, smiling coyly, “I can’t sit still.”

She laughed, “I can see that. Would you feel better going over your lines again?”

He had tried to look back at the book in his lap, but at the mention of his scenes, his face changed, and he looked at her with an expression of nauseous anxiety mixed with excited giddiness. “Would you mind?” he asked.

She shook her head, “I never mind going over your lines with you, I think it’s fun.”

He smiled, closing his book, throwing an arm over the back of the couch and leaning towards her, “you won’t say that years from now, when I’ve annoyed you with every script I’ve ever done.”

She chuckled, “you know I’m a movie nerd. I love seeing all the behind the scenes stuff.”

He smiled and shook his head, “sometimes seeing how movies are made ruins the magic of watching them.”

She scoffed and waved a hand at him, giggling. He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to him, making her squeal as he tickled her. She shrieked, struggling against his roaming fingers despite her high pitched squeals of laughter. After a minute she begged him to stop, she lay across his lap, breathing heavy as she calmed herself from giggling. He smiled down at her brightly, one arm across her stomach. His other hand lightly brushed a few strands of hair from her face.

She smiled up at him, looking him over carefully, “where’d you put your script?”

His smile widened mischievously, “I thought of something else we could do.”

Shiloh grinned, “oh yeah?”

Tom nodded, and she pushed herself up and met his lips half way. His fingers dove up into her hair, his fingertips trailing along her scalp at the back of her head, sending goose bumps down her neck and back. She pulled away and sat up to reposition herself, straddling his lap on the couch, leaning into him and resting her arms on his shoulders.

He looked up at her, leaning his head back, eyes wide as he studied her features, “you seem more…at ease, lately,” he said softly as she leaned down to kiss him again.

She smiled against his lips, flicking her tongue over them and nodding as she sat back upright again. She ran a hand through her hair, removing it from her face, then smirked, “this place has finally started to feel like a home for me.”

His smile brightened, “that’s fantastic darling.”

She moaned in agreement as she kissed him again, his hands returned to the back of her neck and resumed tracing lines up into her hair, sending shockwaves through her body once more. Shiloh trailed a hand down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she went, exposing his porcelain skin. She tore her lips from his and stooped down to suck at the flesh of his collar bone, and Tom gasped in surprise. He moaned as her kisses trailed lightly down his chest. She shifted herself as he watched, his eyes clouded with lust, and she lifted herself off of him, and knelt on the floor between his legs.

“My minx,” he whispered, watching her, and she smiled devilishly. She leaned forward, into his lap, laying a light trail of wet kisses down his belly, stopping at the waist line of his pants to unbuckle them. She smiled up at him, training her eyes on his as she undid his pants and pulled him free of his underwear. His mouth dropped open as she stroked him, his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, “oh baby,” he hissed as she took him in her mouth. She moaned, his cock pulsing at the back of her throat, and his hips bucked. She contained him, cradling his balls in one hand as she began to quicken her pace.

Tom dipped his head back and let out a heavy sigh as his eyes fluttered shut. His hands went to her head, tangling his fingers into her hair and massaging gently as her head bobbed up at down. “ _Shi_ ,” he murmured, she could feel his body tense as she moved up and down, slurping and sucking at him deeply.

He pushed her back gently, she looked up at him, a hand at her mouth to wipe away a trail of saliva, “what’s wrong?” she asked.

Tom shook his head, “nothing,” he said quietly. He took her by the arms and raised her up, standing with her. She watched as he shimmied out of his pants and underwear, and removed his unbuttoned shirt and let it fall from his arms. Standing before her in his nakedness, it took Shiloh a moment to realize what he was waiting for as he watched her. She laughed and began to remove her own clothing. Tom began to help, working at the buttons of her jeans, while she threw off her shirt and worked on the latch of her bra.

When she had shed the rest of her clothing, her hands unconsciously began to try and cover her scars, but she stopped herself. The floor around them was littered with shirts and pants, Tom took her by the hand and pulled her against him. His erection bounced against her thigh and she giggled as he put his arms around her, “where,” he said as he kissed her, holding her face in his hands, “should we,” he sucked on her bottom lip, “make love?”

She laughed deep in her throat and smiled as he licked her lip softly, “where _haven’t_  we done it yet?” she asked quietly, trying to control her grin, as her fingers ran lightly up and down his sides.

Tom smirked, then took her hand and led her out of the living room. She giggled as she followed him, and he brought her into the kitchen, twirling her around and pressing her backside up against the counter while he leaned into her.

“Remember our old favorite?” he whispered into her ear as he nipped at her neck, licking along her jaw line. She closed her eyes and sighed as he sent a hot streak of lightning down to her core. She hadn’t forgotten the times they’d made love in her old kitchen, she remembered those times with a naughty grin. The time they had knocked over her coffee maker had been her favorite to reminisce over. From his wild thrusts, she had held onto him as best she could, but he had moved them along the counter in the throes of their moans and cries of pleasure, and just as she had climaxed and screamed his name, he had bucked one last time into her and there had been a sudden crash of metal and glass on the floor next to them. They had giggled about it then, and Shiloh smiled sweetly as she thought about it now.

Shiloh snickered as Tom’s lean fingers traced along her skin, her giggle turned into a low moan when he reached down between her legs and drove a finger into her tender folds. She groaned when he reached farther and that finger shot up inside her, making her gasp. He sucked on her neck, “ _Tom_ ,” she moaned in a breathy voice. He withdrew his fingers from her wetness and linked his hands behind her thighs, lifting her up off of the floor, and onto the cold counter top.

She squirmed for a moment until her skin became accustomed to the cool granite, then he gently pushed her knees apart and bent down between her legs. Shiloh’s leaned her shoulders back against the cupboards and moaned loudly when Tom’s tongue flicked over her sensitive nub. She saw him glance up at her as he lapped at her wetness. She leaned her head back against the cupboard and ran her fingers through his curly hair. His long fingers found their way back to her tight opening, delving inside quickly; first one, then two, and he began to pump them in and out as he licked and tugged at her clit. Her moans deepened, her legs began to shudder uncontrollably on either side of him. She was so close, she thought vaguely,  _if he keeps curling those fingers like that, I’ll be coming all over them within minutes._

Tom removed his fingers and she hissed, “dammit,” under her breath. He smirked as he stood back up, wiping a hand quickly across his face before kissing her. She put her arms around his neck and felt him reach down between them to guide his cock towards her. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he entered her, letting out a guttural groan from within as he slowly filled her up to his hilt. He paused, leaning into her, she pressed her chest against his and smiled against his lips, “don’t stop,” she moaned.

He smirked, feeling himself pulse within her, her own tight muscles clenching around him. She tugged him closer, and he pulled out slowly, feeling her breathing heavy against him. He slammed back into her, she let out a cry of surprise, smiling up at him as she leaned her head back. He began to pump, his hips bucking wildly into her, her feet hooked behind his waist. He ran a hand up her thigh, over her old scar that neither of them even noticed anymore. Shiloh groaned and caught her breath in her throat, biting her lip as he brought her closer to orgasm. She ran her nails up his shoulders, raking his skin as he pumped into her.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed again, pulling him into a kiss. Tom groaned into her mouth, feeling her inner walls tighten around him as he pounded wildly. She let out a cry, a low moan, and he felt her climax around him. She cried out his name as her body convulsed. She twitched violently against him, her throes bringing him to the edge of his own orgasm. He grunted, burying his face in her hair as she held onto him, and he bucked once more before spilling his seed deep within her.

“Oh Shiloh,” he whispered, gasping for air. He leaned against her as the quakes of his orgasm subsided, she breathed heavily against his chest, and they both slumped onto the countertop. After a moment, Tom pushed himself up, looking down at her with a smile.

She grinned back up at him; chest heaving, her hair matted to her forehead, “that was  _much_  more fun than running lines,” she smirked.

**~*~**

In the days leading up to their trip to the states, Tom found himself becoming more and more anxious. He had never been a shy kind of guy, or the type to be too nervous to try new things, but the prospect of the upcoming film was beginning to terrify him. He found himself becoming easily distracted, even when he tried to focus on something not related to the movie. Shiloh seemed to understand his anxieties; she probably recognized them easier than he did himself, since she’d lived most of her life with her own anxious feelings. She did her best to try and help him steady himself, when he was working for too long memorizing lines, she would convince him to take a break. When he began to get frustrated with his guitar work, she would get him to put the instrument down for a while and come back to it after taking a breather. She was an incredible influence on calming the bubbling nerves that fluttered in his gut.

At night, they would cuddle in front of the television, watching the news or a TV show, sometimes just flipping through the channels aimlessly. On other nights, Shiloh would read to him, he would lay his head in her lap and she would gently stroke her fingers through his hair as she read him a poem, or a passage from a book that she found interesting. She did her best to distract him, to try and get him to relax, and even went as far as to show him how to do some of her own exercises for controlling her panic attacks, just to help him calm himself.

They began to pack for the trip to the states, which wasn’t too daunting of a task, since they’d kept most of their things in their suitcases after returning from Ireland. Tom spent time deciding which of his clothing he wanted to take with him, but Shiloh reminded him that even though it would be October, there could be a chance of some humid days down in the southern states. He prepared by packing for all kinds of weather, and she laughed as she packed her own suitcase the same way.

Shiloh had begun writing again, soon after returning to London, but hadn’t spoken much about it to Tom. He let her be, knowing that when she was ready and wanted to talk to him about it, she would bring it up. He would come home from a jog, or from practicing in the studio, and hear her tapping on her keyboard in her office, and smile to himself. It was little things like that that comforted him, despite his growing worry about the upcoming Hank Williams role. He remembered that first day on the island, and how the little cottage he had rented had felt so foreign to him, but also so inviting, and how he had practically collapsed into the bed and slept for what felt like years; all because the island had seemed to carry away his stress and worries. It had calmed him, soothed him, and now a part of that island was sitting in his extra room, working on a new novel, perhaps, or maybe a memoir, and he smiled wider as he thought about her.

They had planned to leave on Monday, and had an apartment waiting for them when they got there, thanks to the production company. Shiloh had expressed some fears of returning to the states, but most of her fear, she admitted, was really just misplaced feelings of returning to a home she no longer considered to be such. She had never been to Louisiana, but knew a few people from the area, and had made plans to get in touch with them once she and Tom had settled in. She had also made plans with her parents, who lived in California, and they were going to visit her and Tom during filming.

The Friday before they were going to leave, Shiloh made a doctor’s appointment because she hadn’t been feeling well. Tom had suggested she go to his doctors office, since they were going to be man and wife soon, and it only made sense for them to at least go to the same office, even if they saw different doctors. She still didn’t feel comfortable driving in the city alone, only because of the amount of traffic, compared to the traffic back in Burray, so Tom drove her to her appointment, and sat in the waiting room while she went in to see the doctor.

On their way home, they stopped at their local coffee shop, and had coffee and tea outside. They were sitting at a small table together, quietly chatting, when three young women and a young man came up to them. Tom looked up, saw that one of the girls was wearing a Loki t-shirt, and smirked. He did his best to hide his agitation, and Shiloh smiled as he signed autographs for them and took a few pictures.

“We can’t wait to see  _Crimson Peak_ ,” the short girl with the Loki t-shirt said in a mousy voice.

Tom smiled kindly, “thank you sweetheart.”

One of the other girls, who looked a bit older than her companions, turned to Shiloh, “I’m a big fan of your books.”

Shiloh looked stunned, she smiled, “thank you.”

“Do you think you’ll ever write any more of them?”

Shiloh glanced at Tom, who was watching the conversation. She looked back at her young fan and shrugged, “I’m not sure, maybe.”

The young woman smiled, “I hope you do, I heard about your attack, but I hope you don’t let that keep you from writing. You’re an amazing writer.”

Shiloh felt her face flush, “thank you hun.”

The group said their excited thanks and Tom gently sent them on their way. He sat back down and sighed, covering his face with his hands.

“It wasn’t  _that_  bad,” Shiloh said quietly, smirking as she looked at him over her coffee cup.

Tom looked up at her, smirking, “wasn’t that bad?” he repeated, mockingly.

She giggled, “they were nice.”

He smirked, “were you surprised to meet a  _Darkness Within_  fan?”

Shiloh let out a wry laugh, “she almost made me choke on my coffee.”

He chuckled, then took a sip of his tea, “I just wish we could have a day out without someone wanting a picture, or an autograph.”

She scoffed, “we’ve had  _tons_  of days where we go out and nobody notices who you are, nobody even takes a second glance at us!”

He pursed his lips, pouting, “I’m worried about Louisiana.”

“What about it, about the movie? You know your lines backwards and forwards, you’re going to do fine.”

He shook his head, “no, I mean about staying in the states.”

She cocked her head, “why?”

He sighed and glanced around, eyeing the people walking nearby, hoping nobody would be walking up to them wanting any more photos or signatures. “Remember what I told you about the  _Crimson Peak_  shoot?”

Shiloh thought for a moment, remembering back to the island, during one of their discussions, before they had become romantic, when he had gone into detail about his encounters with fans in Canada while working on the horror movie. “You mean when those girls found out what hotel you were staying at?”

“They tried to get into my room, Shi,” he said gravely.

Shiloh took a deep breath and sighed, “you heard what the producers said, last week. They are going out of their way to make sure we have the best security, and that our apartment is safe at all times. Nothing is going to happen. All you have to do is focus on your acting.”

His worried grimace softened, and slowly turned into a smirk, “listen to you; the woman who, just a few weeks ago was scared of my extreme fans, now defending them and reassuring  _me_  that everything will be alright.”

Shiloh smiled as she finished her coffee, “everything  _will_  be alright. You’re going to be amazing as Hank Williams, and the movie is going to be fantastic. I will be shocked if you don’t get an Oscar nomination out of it.”

Tom choked on his tea. He swallowed hard, then laughed, “my God woman, we haven’t even started  _filming_  yet!”

She began to giggle, “so? Can’t I be confident in my fiancés acting abilities?”

He smirked at her, reached across the table and took her hand in his, “I love when you call me that.”

They made their way home as the sun began to move slowly across the cloudy sky. Shiloh busied herself in the living room, deciding which books to take with her, and which she could leave behind. Tom walked through on the way to the bathroom, and smirked at her. Smiling to himself, he remembered her insistence on never using a Kindle or tablet to read her books. She had told him that she liked the feel of an actual book in her hands, the smell of the pages, and the sound of turning them as she read. She didn’t want to stare at some bright screen for hours on end, since she did that enough when she was writing.

Tom closed the bathroom door partially as he unzipped his pants in front of the toilet. He sighed at the pleasant feeling of relief as he emptied his bladder, but was suddenly distracted when he heard Shiloh’s phone ring. She quickly answered it, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. All he could hear was her muffled voice as she responded to whoever had called her. He shook himself free of any remaining droplets, stuffed himself back in his pants, and zipped them up. Rinsing his hands in the sink, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He paused when he saw more worry lines than he had noticed a week ago, and stared at his face for a moment.

When he came out of the bathroom, and walked back through the living room, Shiloh wasn’t staring at the bookshelf anymore. She had her arms clutched to her chest, and was holding her phone in her hands, staring out the window. He watched her for a moment, then leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, “everything alright?” he asked. She turned toward him, her face streaked with tears. Shocked by the sight of the tears, Tom crossed the room in a few strides and was in front of her.

“Shiloh, what’s wrong? What happened?” He put his hands on her arms, squeezing them gently, trying to get her to answer him.

After a moment, she looked up at him, and smiled. It wasn’t a grimace, or a painful smirk, she was actually smiling, close to giddiness. He had been about to ask what was so funny, when she opened her mouth and cried, “I’m pregnant.”


	20. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "I Saw the Light" shoot has been underway for a couple of months, down in Louisiana, and Shiloh and Tom have adjusted well to life in the states. They're eager to return home to London soon to begin preparing for the baby, but things aren't as peaceful and joyous as they think, and they receive some disturbing news from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Violence at the end.

October came and went faster than Tom could have imagined.  _I Saw the Light_ got underway on budget and on schedule, as the end of November rolled around, he felt much more comfortable in the shoes of the country legend he was portraying. In addition to his new role and the complexity that entailed, Tom felt both worried sick and overwhelmingly excited about the baby, and Shiloh seemed to feel the same.

She had remained cautious about the trip to the states. Their apartment in Shreveport was a nice one, very spacious and accommodating for the both of them. Shiloh spread out her books and made a makeshift office for herself in one corner of the large living room. Tom was amazed at her determination to continue the writing she had started, and found it even more amazing that she could concentrate after the news that they were expecting.

It had gone by in a whirl for Tom, the afternoon when she had received the call from her doctor, telling her the test results. He had been in shock when she’d told him, through her tears of joy, that they were going to be parents. He had dropped to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She had laughed as he had lifted her shirt and pressed his lips against her stomach, hugging her tightly to him.

Once she had gotten the phone call from her doctor in London, Tom had been about to call off the movie all together, but Shiloh convinced him that they could make it work. They made arrangements with a local doctor in Shreveport, to see her through the early months of her pregnancy while they were in Louisiana. Her parents came to visit them within the first month of filming, and even though it was still early in the pregnancy, Shiloh couldn’t resist telling them their exciting news. Her parents were thrilled, just as Tom’s had been when he had called to tell them.

Her parents visit had changed Shiloh,  _but it could be the pregnancy that brought about the change also_ , he told himself. She giggled at almost everything, she was always smiling and beaming at people on the set, and laughing at any joke she was told. She was friendlier, less shy around people when he introduced her to them. Tom couldn’t help but smile as he watched her chat animatedly with his costars and the director. This wasn’t the reserved, depressed Shiloh he had seen sitting alone at Billy’s birthday party; this was the vibrant, entertaining Shiloh he had gotten to know in her home for those weeks they had had together.

She was popular on set, she made friends quickly, and Tom watched in awe as she even started telling people about the new book she was working on. This ‘new’ Shiloh made him fall in love with her all over again.

Her doctor in Louisiana explained to both of them the possible dangers of pregnancy in her forties. He told them that in the early stages of pregnancy, there was always the possibility that things could go wrong. Once she reached her second trimester, there was less of a risk of anything happening to the baby, and they would be able to monitor her progress from there.

Shiloh sat in the exam room, dressed in a thin gown with a blanket across her lap, perched upon the reclining exam table, while Tom stood next to her nervously waiting for the doctor to come in. Dr. Hardy, a middle-aged man with wisps of grey speckled across his dark hair and a handlebar mustache to match, came walking into the room with a wide grin.

“Morning folks, I hear you two are anxious to find out the sex of your baby!” he said happily. Shiloh smiled and nodded excitedly, Tom felt like he might be sick. Dr. Hardy took one look at him, put the tablet he had been holding down on the table, and turned back to Tom. “You don’t look so well son.”

Tom looked up at him and tried to smile, but his stomach churned and he decided it was best to keep his mouth closed.

The doctor smirked, winking down at Shiloh playfully. She giggled, and he turned back to Tom, “first time, son?” Tom nodded, squeezing Shiloh’s hand. The doctor nodded and looked down at their linked hands, smiling. He looked back at both of them and crossed his arms, “let me tell you something.” Tom feared the worse, he felt like he was practically vibrating where he stood, and he passively wondered why Shiloh couldn’t feel his tremors. Dr. Hardy turned and glanced around the room, then took the rolling chair that was near the wall, and sat down. He scooted over to the other side of the table Shiloh was sitting on, and they both watched him. “Once you  _see_  your little bundle of joy, you’ll feel a whole ‘lot better m’boy,” he said with a small laugh.

He had Shiloh lean back, and he gently brought her gown up over her belly. She had only just started to show; they had both noticed her blossoming belly a few weeks before. When he had first seen her walking across the apartment in her pajamas, with her tiny little belly peeking out from under her shirt, he wanted to cry, the sight made him so happy. Now, as she lay back and held his hand, and the doctor applied the lubricant for the ultrasound, Tom’s heart fluttered a million beats at once and felt like it would implode at any moment.

Dr. Hardy pressed the probe to her belly and turned the monitor on. The screen flickered for a minute, then an image that looked like nothing but static appeared, and the doctor examined it. After a moment, he turned the monitor towards Tom and Shiloh, and pointed to a spot on the screen. “ _This_ ,” with his finger he circled a spotty area in the mess of black and white splotches and blobs, “is your baby.”

Shiloh and Tom both squinted at the screen, Tom tried to decipher the spot that the doctor was indicating, but he couldn’t see how it looked like a baby. The doctor saw their confused faces and chuckled loudly, “and  _this_ ,” he stopped his finger on the screen, and pointed at one spot, “is your baby’s penis.”

It took a minute for it to sink in for Tom, then he looked from the static of the monitor, to Shiloh. She was beaming brightly, practically glowing as she smiled back at him. “Penis?” Tom heard himself say, the word felt foreign to him. His lips felt numb as he looked back at the doctor, who nodded proudly. “We’re having a boy?” he asked hazily.

Shiloh clamped her free hand over her mouth as she shuddered with silent giggles, and the doctor nodded. “Yep, you’re almost sixteen weeks along, Miss Winters, so it’s pretty safe to say that this will definitely be a little  _fella_  running around.”

Shiloh inhaled deeply, “does he look okay?” her voice shook nervously.

Dr. Hardy chuckled, “sweetums, he is  _perfect_.”

Tom felt his legs start to get wobbly. His felt tingly, and the doctor must have seen the look on his face, because he quickly stood up and brought a chair up behind Tom and helped him into it. Tom thought he muttered a ‘thank you,’ but he couldn’t be sure. He sat there for a minute, and then felt the doctor’s heavy hand on his shoulder, patting him proudly. “I’ll get this printed out for you while you get dressed,” he heard the cheery man say, and then he left them alone in the room.

Shiloh’s hand crawled up Tom’s arm and she gripped him tightly as she sat up. She wiped the lubricant off of her belly with the tissues the doctor had given her, and had stood up to find her pants, when Tom suddenly snapped back into reality and could once again see what was happening. “We’re having a baby boy?” he asked, his voice felt small and unsure.

She turned around, one leg in her sweatpants, and smiled brightly, “yes we are.”

The feeling rushed back into his numb limbs and he bounded out of the chair. His long legs took him across the room to where she stood and he swept her up into his arms. She laughed as he twirled her, dancing around the room with her in her flimsy hospital gown. He pulled away from her and bent down on one knee, caressing her burgeoning belly with his large hands.

“Hello little Tommy junior,” he whispered to her stomach. Shiloh looked down at him and suppressed a giggle. She ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her belly. He looked up at her with wide eyes, the icy blue irises blazing, his pupils small and focused. She ran her fingers softly down the side of his face, and he quickly rose to his feet and took her face in his hands, fiercely attacking her lips with his own. Shiloh let out a surprised groan as he kissed her, then Tom pulled back from her and leaned his forehead into hers, “I love you so _much_ , Shiloh,” he said softly.

She smiled, tears forming in her eyes, “I love you too Tom.”

**~*~**

Tom threw himself into his work, not because he was upset and wanted to distract himself from anything, but he had convinced himself that if he gave the role 200% more than he normally did for any other movie, then maybe they could finish production ahead of schedule, and he and Shiloh could get back home sooner. He envisioned them walking down the streets of his neighborhood, her belly bulging and him helping her along. He imagined them at home, laying in bed reading; her with a book propped up on her tummy, and him gently stroking the skin of her growing stomach. These images fueled him on; he sang his heart out when he was on set, strumming that guitar and speaking in that southern drawl. He immersed himself into the life of the young Hank Williams, but in the back of his mind, all he could think about was Shiloh, and the baby.

He returned home to their rented apartment after a fairly hectic day of filming a dramatic scene between Hank and his wife, to find Shiloh in tears on the couch, clutching her stomach as she sobbed. Tom dropped his bag on the floor and rushed to her, skidding to his knees in front of her, one hand flying to her stomach, the other to her arm, “what happened?” he pleaded. She shook her head, peering at him through puffy pink eyes, unable to speak right away. “Is it the baby?” he asked hurriedly, terrified, but Shiloh quickly shook her head. He felt a massive weight lift from his chest, but he still tried to soothe her, “Shi, take a deep breath.” He did his best to sound peaceful and calm, worrying that she might have had another panic attack, and what that might do to the baby, he didn’t know.

Shiloh struggled, but finally managed a deep breath, and after another moment she was able to stammer, “call Luke.”

He looked at her, confused. He hadn’t had his phone on for most of the day, since he’d been filming, so he hadn’t checked to see if he had missed any calls. She urged him to go back to his bag, and he pulled his phone out of the outside pocket and turned it on. He walked back to her and sat next to her on the couch, gently rubbing her back as he waited for the phone to turn on. He quickly dialed Luke’s number and put the phone to his ear.

“Luke, it’s Tom. I just got in, what’s going on?”

Shiloh struggled to breathe deeply, and held her arms around herself as her tears began to subside. She listened to Tom’s part of the conversation with a hand still shaking over her mouth.

“ _What_?” he hissed, his voice deep, unlike she had ever heard before.

He rose up off the couch and began to pace through the living room, “what do you mean you don’t know how it happened? I thought the agency made sure that kind of information didn’t get out to the public?”

She leaned back on the couch and tried to sigh, but the tears still fell and she knew she wouldn’t feel calm any time soon. Tom listened to whatever Luke was telling him, his face grew more and more flushed as he nodded and bit his lip. Finally, he said a brisk good-bye to Luke, hung up, and glared down at Shiloh.

“Someone  _broke_  into the house?” he was furious. She hadn’t seen him this upset since the article in  _The Mirror_  had exposed them back on Burray. He tore his eyes from Shiloh, not meaning to glower at her with such anger, then plopped back onto the couch next to her. “They have no idea how they found out where we lived.”

“Do they know  _who_  it was?” she asked, her throat raw from crying.

Tom shook his head and turned to look out the window, his hand crawling to her knee. She put her own hand over his and continued to try and control her tears. Tom took a deep breath, “they have no idea  _who_ , but the police are looking into it. Luke says there was graffiti in some of the rooms.”

She turned to him, appalled, “ _really_?”

Tom nodded, not able to turn back to her yet, still trying to tame the wild flame of rage that was flaring within him.

She ran her hands over her face and sighed, coughing. She stood up and ran a hand through her hair as she walked around the room, “did they take anything?”

Finally, Tom turned to her, realizing the real question she meant to ask, but she was dancing around it. “I don’t think so,” he said. She looked down at the floor with an angry sigh. Tom stood up and walked to her, taking her in his arms. He felt her shudder against him, gripping his shirt tightly as she tried not to break down again. He ran his hand over her back softly, “it’s alright, Shi, the house will be safe when we go back.”

She yanked herself away from him, her face teary and contorted, “ _go back?_ ” she repeated dubiously. He looked at her, trying to study her face, but she just scoffed in spite of her tears, “I can’t go back to that house. After someone has broken in and  _invaded_  it? Where we  _live_? How could we ever feel safe there again?”

Tom tried desperately to reason with her, “we will get the security system changed, we’ll add new precautions to the doors and windows. I’ll hire a body guard if I have to, we can get a new dog.”

She pushed him back, stepping away from him, her face pained and straining to control herself, “no, Tom.”

“Shiloh,” he started. She turned to leave the room, but he tried to stop her, tugging at her wrist. She spun around fiercely and stared at his hand. He’d never seen such defiance in her eyes before. He let go of her wrist, but followed close behind her as she stormed out of the room.

She thudded into the bedroom, annoyed that he was following her, and threw herself onto her side on the bed. He pleaded with her, “Shiloh, we  _have_  to go back, it is our home.” She began to shake with quiet sobs, covering her face as he sat near her on the edge of the bed. She rolled over, turning her back to him, “I’m upset too, but we can’t let whoever it was drive us out of our house.”

“ _Your_  home,” she said through her tears.

Tom sighed, “no, it’s  _our_  home, you said so yourself. We have to  _fight_  for it.”

After a moment, Shiloh shifted on the bed and sat up, scooting back to lean against the headboard. She looked at Tom, her face flushed, her eyes sore, tracks of tears etched into her skin. She sat cross-legged, her belly protruding slightly from under her t-shirt. “Do you really want to go back there… _knowing_ what they did? Knowing they could come back? Do you want to raise your son in a house that you don’t feel safe in?”

Tom edged towards her and gingerly reached out to place his hand over her own. She didn’t pull away, so he gently gripped her fingers within his. “I will make sure that you and the baby are  _always_  safe.”

She watched him, staring into his eyes. Her tears returned, and she covered her mouth as she tried to subdue them. He gave her a moment, then he shifted around on the mattress so he was leaning against the headboard next to her, and he put an arm across her shoulders.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and snaked an arm across his chest to hold him closer. He ran his hand over her arm as she cried. She gathered herself with a few more shaking breaths, then choked, “this is the kind of thing I was afraid of, back in Belfast.”

“I know,” he nodded stiffly, kissing the top of her head.

She shuddered, “this is the kind of thing that happens in my nightmares.”

He rubbed her arms, trying to warm the pain and fear out of her, “we will make this right. We will make  _sure_  that everything is safe, before we move back in, okay?”

She pushed herself up and looked back at him, “do you think we can do that?”

He nodded eagerly, “I  _know_  that we can.”

They sat like that for a while, in silence. Tom gently rubbed her back as her breathing went back to normal. When she felt calm enough, he asked her in a quiet voice, “how do you feel? You don’t feel a panic attack coming on, do you? Or another episode?”

Shiloh shook her head against him, absentmindedly playing with the buttons on his shirt, “I feel  _pissed off_ , more than anything.”

**~*~**

The November weeks rolled into December, and the weather in Louisiana cooled considerably. Tom, having grown up in London, was used to the cold, and even though Shiloh had lived with Scottish weather for thirteen years of her life, she now felt herself becoming more sensitive to the brisk air. She bundled up as if there might have been three feet of snow outside, but Tom did his best to accommodate her hormonal changes. She had confessed to him that he felt lucky to not have much morning sickness, but she was always tired now. She fell asleep early, and had a hard time waking up in the morning. She spent most of her days in her pajamas, having bought new ones when her regular set became too small for her ever-expanding waistline.

When she did make it to the set, she did her best to be cheery and friendly with Tom’s fellow cast and crew members. He knew she was uncomfortable, but everyone wanted to see how she was, the women wanted to talk about the baby, and the men wanted to pat Tom on the back and congratulate him.

Shiloh sat in the director’s chair while surrounded by two of the female leads and several hair and makeup artists, all of whom wanted to see the new sonogram photos of the baby. They were cooing over how big he was getting, and quizzing Shiloh about possible names, when Tom was finally able to come over and rescue her.

“Excuse me ladies,” he smiled cheerfully, everyone turned toward him, “may I have a moment alone with the mother of my child?”

Some of the woman uttered a loud ‘aww,’ and they said quick good-byes to Shiloh, before leaving the two of them alone.

“Thank you,” she smirked. She ran her hand over her belly, the loose t-shirt she had thrown on before leaving the apartment made her look unnecessarily frumpy, but she didn’t care. Tom reached over and placed a hand on her stomach. He hoped his son would sense his touch and kick for him, because every time the baby did that, it made his heart leap up into his throat with joy.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked slyly.

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, smirking at him, “what do you want?” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, “you’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to see how gorgeous this kid is going to be.”

She laughed heartily, placing her hand over his on her belly, “your son is going to be brunette, with your big blue eyes, and my fat lips.”

“My  _son_ ,” he repeated happily.

Shiloh watched him with a grin, “so what were you and Marc talking about?”

Tom glanced back over his shoulder at where he and his director had been chatting while Shiloh had been surrounded. He turned back to her and grinned sheepishly, “he wants to take the cast out to dinner, to celebrate almost being done with filming.”

She sighed, he had anticipated that she wouldn’t want to agree to any social engagements, “when?”

He cocked an eyebrow, surprised, “tonight. I can always say no. I’ve got a pregnant wife, people would understand.”

She shook her head, then began to struggle out of the chair, holding onto his arm for support. Her belly was nowhere near as large as it would be in another five months, but she was still getting used to the new weight. She was also having a hard time getting used to the enlarged portion of herself that had usually been thin and firm. She slipped her arm into his and they started to walk towards the door. Tom waved to some of his other cast members as they made their way outside.

Once at the car, Tom opened the backseat door for her and helped her inside, while the driver opened his own door for him on the other side of the car. “Thanks,” Tom said to the young man. He had been their driver for only a few days, but Shiloh had instantly taken a shine to him.  
When the driver got behind the wheel, Shiloh called up to him, “Joey, can you take us by that bakery on Porterville Street? I’ve got a craving for their cheese Danish.”

“Sure thing Mrs. Hiddles,” the young man tipped his hat in the rearview mirror, and Shiloh smiled. Joey had started calling her ‘Mrs. Hiddleston’ when he first began driving for them. She had corrected him, telling him that she and Tom weren’t married yet, and then they had jokingly agreed that her new nickname sould be ‘Mrs. Hiddles.’

They made their way home after stopping at the bakery, where Joey ran in to get her a Danish. Once they were home, Tom made arrangements with Joey to pick them up later that evening. Marc had made reservations at a nice restaurant on the other side of town, in an area they weren’t familiar with, but Joey said he knew the place well.

Shiloh did her best to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing, so she would have energy for dinner, but she had a hard time sitting still. She had discovered the hard way that being pregnant wasn’t all about looking like you were glowing, or the miracle of life. What it was really about was back pain, throbbing ankles, and having to pee a thousand times in one day.

Tom checked his emails and made a few phone calls, making sure to call Luke and see how the repairs to the house were coming along. He came into the bedroom to see Shiloh standing in front of the full length mirror in nothing but her underwear, her hands on her hips, looking disgusted with herself.

He walked up behind her slowly and slid his hands around her waist, reaching forward to encircle her belly in his arms. She smiled at his touch, and he leaned his chin on her shoulder and looked at their reflections in the mirror. “You look amazing,” he said softly in her ear.

“I look like a whale,” she said flatly, “and I’m only going to become more whale-like as the months go on.”

He rubbed her stomach gently, “you’re so sexy, carrying my baby.”

She craned her neck to the side to look at him, eyebrows scrunched, “ _sexy_?” she scoffed.

He nodded and kissed the tip of her nose. She laughed and withdrew from his arms, going back to the closet, which he could see she had already been going through, presumably to find something to wear for dinner that night. In the end, since she was convinced she didn’t have anything fancy that would fit her right; she ended up wearing a loose-fitting button up top and dress pants that sat just under her belly. Joey drove them to the restaurant and they met Marc and the rest of the cast inside.

Dinner went by pleasantly enough. Shiloh seemed to forget about being uncomfortable; she laughed at jokes, giggled at stories of wild times on other movie sets, and even told her own anecdotes of stories from back on the island. One of Tom’s co-stars was fascinated by the idea of living on such a secluded piece of land. While she had Shiloh go into great detail of life back on Burray, Tom was roped into a conversation with his director and DP about how the rest of filming would wrap up.

Later, after they’d eaten, had their drinks –Shiloh had a glass of pineapple juice – they all decided it was late enough. They had an early scene scheduled for the next morning, and would all be miserable on set if they stayed out too late. Tom and Shiloh got back in their car, and Joey started to drive them home.

“So have you given any more thought to  _Thomas William Hiddleston, the Second_?” He smirked over at her.

Shiloh smiled, rubbing her forehead, “have you thought any more about  _Sutton William Hiddleton_?” They had been having a teasingly tedious argument for the past week over their favorite baby names. Neither of them wanted to relinquish their first choice, but they knew in the end they would have to find a compromise.

Tom chuckled and glanced back out the window, the street they were on didn’t look familiar to him. He took a better look, searching for a recognizable landmark. When he couldn’t find one, he leaned forward in his seat to speak to Joey, “is this a new shortcut, Joe?”

Joey didn’t answer. Tom glanced over at Shiloh, who shrugged. He watched as the neighborhoods they were driving through became progressively worse-looking, and his heart began to thump absurdly against his ribs. “Joey,” he leaned forward more, so he was closer to the driver, “where are we?”

Still, Joey remained silent. Tom was about to get angry, when the young man made a sharp turn into what looked like a dark alley, and stopped the car abruptly. Tom sat back in his seat and looked at Shiloh, her face was pale and her eyes were wide.

The door on Tom’s side of the car was pulled open, and Joey ushered him to come out. When Tom didn’t move right away, there was a flash of bright silver, and Tom realized that Joey was holding a gun. At the sight of the weapon, Tom’s insides turned to ice.

“Get out,” Joey demanded. Tom slowly slid across the seat towards the door, ignoring Shiloh’s squeaking pleas of protest. He stepped out of the car as calmly as he could, staring at Joey in astonishment. Joey motioned with the handgun for Tom to step to the side, then the young man leaned in and ordered Shiloh out of the car as well.

As soon as she had struggled to her feet, Tom immediately inserted himself between her and the ominous weapon. He put his hands up in front of himself, ignoring the feeling of absurdity, “Joey, whatever you’re after, it doesn’t need to get violent.” He was partly aware of the stern tone in his voice, the calm and collected manner in which he had spoken, despite the quake of fear within his gut that made him feel like his bowels might empty at any moment.

“Gimme’ all you got,” Joey said quickly, he looked like he was sweating, despite the chill in the air. As Tom began to slowly reach for his wallet, Shiloh could see the droplets of sweat falling from Joey’s face, and the way the gun trembled in his shaking hand.

“Joey,” she said quietly. Tom turned quickly to her, trying to keep her behind him, but she held his arm back, and reached her other hand out towards their would-be assailant, “ _Joey_ , we’re your friends.”

“Shut up!” Joey commanded, his voice cracking in his anxious tremors.   
Shiloh jumped at his loud outburst, but she still reached out towards him. Tom’s heart was in his throat, or maybe it was vomit. The scene seemed to play out in slow motion in front of him, like the movie reels he would see in his head of fondly-remembered moments.

No matter how slow it seemed to play out, what happened next still boggled his mind. Shiloh pleaded with Joey to put the gun down and let them go, that he didn’t need to do this, and that they wouldn’t press charges against him. She reached forward and started to try and place her hand on the gun, but Joey jumped, his hands sweaty and shaking.

There was a deafening crack, Tom’s eardrums roared with the high pitched echo from the gun discharging in the narrow alleyway.   
Before he knew what had happened, Joey had dropped the gun and was running away. For a split second, Tom considered running after him, but then he realized Shiloh wasn’t standing next to him any longer. He looked around franticly for her, then his eyes travelled down towards the ground.

She was there, lying on her back, her blouse swiftly turning the color of crimson, as blood pooled from under her breasts. Tom fell to his knees, the cobblestone brick biting into his skin, through his pants. Shiloh looked at him, her eyes full of stunned understanding, She coughed, and a trail of blood trickled from her lips.

“ _Shiloh_ ,” he whispered, words seemed trivial in this moment.

He reached down, for a moment afraid to touch her, but that moment past quickly and he scooped her up in his arms. She cried out in pain when he moved her, he reached into his pants pocket for his phone. It shook in his trembling hand as he tried to dial 911, but his fingers were covered in blood and he had to redial. He finally got through to the emergency responder and tried to tell them where they were, but he didn’t know the streets that Joey had driven them down. Tears fell from his eyes as he struggled to see a street sign from where they sat in the alley. The operator told him to keep his phone on and they would trace his signal.

Tom dropped the phone when his eyes fell back to Shiloh, she was looking up at him, a faint grin twitched across her lips, “Shi?” he asked. He felt lightheaded.

“I…I,” she started, her voice so faint, so distant. He looked down at the blood billowing from her midsection; he placed a hand over the hole in her shirt, just about her pregnant belly. He pressed on her wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding, hoping that that would be enough. She groaned when he pushed down on her, but she still continued to smile, “Tom,” her voice was no more than a sigh.

Tom felt himself convulsing. The tears were falling from him, but the sobs were stuck deep inside his chest. They coursed through him, making him heave with every breath. “S-Shiloh,” he stuttered, his brain wouldn’t work, he couldn’t force it to comprehend what was happening.

She chuckled softly, more blood spilling from her lips. The blood pooling out from under her blouse had become black, her life force from deep within, “people are always trying to kill me?” she asked, confused.

He couldn’t smile, he didn’t understand how she could try and crack a joke at a moment like this. Her eyes fluttered shut and he howled, “NO!”  
She looked at him again, the color fading from her face, the bright chocolate of her eyes beginning to fade, “you saved me, Tom.”

He shook his head, tears seeping from him, “no,” he begged, “no, please!”

Shiloh smirked; that wry smirk at the corner of her mouth that he had seen so many times. He’d seen it at the beach while Barley played, in her kitchen while they cooked dinner, dancing together in her empty bedroom, reading fan messages in the hospital room, arguing over favorite movies in his living room. Her smirk began to fade, her eyes began to lose focus. “I love you…” her voice was so weak he could hardly hear her.

“I love you,” he stuttered, the words falling from his numb lips. Shiloh tried to smile once more, but the light had dissipated from her eyes, and she went limp in his arms. “Shiloh?” he pleaded, shaking her. Sirens began to blare in the distance, they sounded light years away.

“ _SHILOH_!” he screamed at her. He lifted his hand from her wound and placed it on her tiny belly, vomit bubbling up in his throat as he remembered the names they had been just talking about a few minutes ago, for this unborn baby they already loved. “SHI!” he screamed, guttural and hoarse. She didn’t respond, her eyes stared up at the dark sky, unseeing, and her arms fell limp at her sides as he shook her.


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summing up the aftermath of the ending to "The Island." Sewing up some loose ends, bringing some closure, making myself sad....

_The Sunday Times_

_Tragedy struck a terrible blow for one of Britain’s finest young actors this past weekend. Tom Hiddleston, best known for playing Loki in the Thor and Avengers: Assemble films, was in the states filming his new Hank Williams picture, with his fiancé; American science-fiction author Shiloh Winters, when a horrifying accident took place. Local police are referring to the incident as a “robbery gone bad,” when Hiddleston and the four-month pregnant Winters were held at gun point. In the minutes that followed, Winters was shot, and their assailant fled the scene._

_A spokesperson for Hiddleston refused to comment in detail about the actor’s welfare, but it is safe to assume that the 33-year old star is at a loss right now. Winters was 43, a decade older than her would-be husband. She had recently made the news six months ago, when the man who attacked her in 2001, somehow found where she was living, and attacked her again. Winters was luckier then, she survived that attack and was on the mend while staying with Hiddleston in Ireland where he filmed Ben Wheatley’s thriller “High Rise.”_

_Production on the Williams picture, “I Saw the Light,” has halted indefinitely for now, producers say they will wait for Hiddleston to mourn his loss. Hollywood insiders are murmuring that the young thespian has no plans to return to the stage or screen._

_A private service will be held this Thursday for Winters, on the Scottish Isle of Burray, which she called home for over a decade, after surviving the first of her fanatic fan’s attacks in 2001. Members of her family and a small number of friends have been invited to the ceremony. Fans of Winters novels, “The Darkness Within,” can send flowers, or make a donation to one of Winters’ favorite charities._

**~*~**

Tom stood in the grass, he could smell it despite the cold winter air. Little snow had fallen in Burray, and even with the slight chill drifting through the breeze, it was comfortable outside. He looked around, his bright blue eyes dulled, sore, and pink; he didn’t care. He saw everyone, he acknowledged them when they came up to give their condolences, but all he could do was just nod stiffly and look back down at his feet.

Peyton stood next to him, her hand linked with his, squeezing his fingers tightly. He didn’t squeeze back; she held his limp hand between them, as if holding him down in case he began to float away. The service wasn’t large, a few dozen people had shown up, most of them from the island. Shiloh and Peyton’s parents stood on Peyton’s other side, he could barely stand to look anyone in the eye, let alone look at them.

Richard came up to him, his eyes red, Molly at his side, a tissue clutched tightly in her hand. He mumbled something, but it was more of an echo in Tom’s ear than anything he could understand. Phyllis came shuffling up soon after, her face was streaked with tears, her makeup running. She shook violently as she tried to say something to both Tom and Peyton. When her words failed her, she clamped her arms around Tom’s midsection and clung to him. He stood there, bewildered, lost; looking down at the older woman, trying to remember what he had eaten on that first day he’d met her, back in her bakery.

The rest of that day was a blur, whizzing by in front of Tom’s face, sometimes in slow motion, other times it seemed to go so fast he couldn’t see what was happening. He sat in Peyton’s rented car, unsure of how he had gotten there or what she was doing. He felt nothing, his face was numb, and the rest of his body felt as heavy as lead. Peyton was standing near the cottage he had rented so long ago, looking out over the ocean, hugging herself as the cool breeze whipped her hair around.Tom watched her for a few minutes, not thinking about anything in particular. If he let himself  _think_ , then he started thinking about Shiloh, and he felt worn out, wasted, and vacant, when he thought about her.

After another minute, he got out of the car and walked over the where Peyton stood. She was the closest thing he had to the woman he loved, but looking at her was agonizing. She stood there, the winter sun glistening off of her over-sized sunglasses, but he could see the tears streaming down her cheeks despite her attempt at hiding them. He turned away from her and looked out over the beach.

“She’s out there, somewhere,” Peyton said in a tired, cracked voice.

He didn’t look at her, he couldn’t respond. All he could do was look out over the crashing waves, determinedly  _not_  thinking about all the times they had spent on that beach, together. He turned to look up towards Shiloh’s old house, he didn’t know  _why_  he did it, but his head turned on its own accord. The tiny cottage was still standing, even though the rest of the world could have crashed and burned around him and he wouldn’t have noticed.

For a moment, the view changed. The cool, bitter winter breeze disappeared, and the field that lay between the two houses was a deep forest green again, instead of the wilted, pale shade that the winter months had turned it. The sun was brighter, it beamed through the puffy white clouds and speckled the land with the kind of glow that lifted your spirits. In the distance, the sound of a dog barking caught his ear. He could see the brown shape bounding through the grass outside the other cottage, an unknown figure jogging along with it, joining in the animal’s playtime.

Tom coughed, bringing a shaking hand up to his mouth and gasping for air. He felt Peyton turn to look at him, but he looked away, glancing back over the beach, his eyes clouded and painfully raw. He caught his breath and turned his back on that spectacular view, abandoning the warmth and bliss it had once brought him, and started back towards the car.

**~*~**

Peyton pulled up to the address Luke had given her, her heart beating anxiously in her chest. She had only met the young agent once, when he had called her out of the blue and asked if she had heard from Tom. It had been over two weeks since Shiloh’s funeral, and the holidays were in full swing all around the hectic, crowded city. The ‘holiday cheer’ that had always filled her with joy at this time of year, seemed dull and insensible to her now.

She watched as a few teens went running by her car, cheering a New Years’ song and blowing the stupid noise makers she had always hated. She waited until they had disappeared out of her rear view mirror, before getting out of the car and heading up the walkway towards Tom’s house.

At the front door, a pile of newspapers littered the step, most of them beginning to decompose from the damp winter weather. The top most paper was an unfamiliar subscription to her, but the headline twanged a sharp pain in her chest when she read it;  _Assailant in Famous Author’s Murder Case Charged with Manslaughter._  She had heard about the apprehension of Joey a few days after she had gotten the call about Shiloh. It had filtered back to that part of her mind where she stored things that she didn’t want to think about right away. _The man who killed your sister is going to rot in prison, alive, while she rots in the ground,_  a voice in her head screamed. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head free of the disturbing thought.

She banged her knuckles hard on the front door. After no response, she knocked loudly again, calling Tom’s name through the heavy wood. After another minute, and more knocking, she became frustrated, and reached into her pocket for the key Luke had given her. She slipped the key into the door, turned it, and pushed it open. She stepped inside slowly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“Tom?” she asked, not sure if she should shout or if he was sleeping. She stepped into the main room, glancing around. The rooms were dark, the blinds on the windows shut tightly. Peyton quietly laid her purse on the couch in the living room, and looked around. She turned towards what looked like the main hallway, and tried to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible.

The main bedroom was empty; she saw a closed laptop sitting on the mattress, along with a suitcase that hadn’t been unpacked. A few other suitcases were sitting upright in the corner, shunned away. She assumed that those had been Shiloh’s.

Peyton turned from the empty room and continued down the hallway, the next room was the bathroom, the one after that an office. At the end of the hall she quietly pushed the door open and finally found him. Unconscious, lying on his back, spread eagle across the bed, one hand gripping a whisky bottle.

She hurried over and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over him, taking his face in her hands. Trying to wake him, “Tom?” she called loudly. He didn’t answer.

“TOM,” she shouted in his face, but he didn’t react. “Tom, don’t do this!” she roared, irritated. She shifted onto her knees and tried to pull him across the bed. The bottle of whisky fell from his slack grip and toppled to the floor. She struggled to pull him up to the head of the bed, then leaned down and put her ear against his chest.  _Still alive_ , she thought. She gripped his face again and shook him, trying to force him to open his eyes. He let out a low, almost inaudible groan as she shook him, and she breathed a quick sigh of relief.

“Tom,” she called vigorously, “how much did you drink?”

Tom moaned, but didn’t answer. His eyes fluttered open, then closed quickly. He tried to move, but it looked like his body was too heavy for him. His eyes opened again looking at Peyton with such bewilderment and disbelief. Then his face transformed into a look of overwhelming relief, as tears formed in his eyes, “Shiloh,” he whispered.

Peyton bit her lip as his eyes fluttered closed again. She shook him, but he didn’t respond. She struggled to turn him onto his side, then rushed to the other side of the room to grab the trash bin. She put it next to the bed, then sat back down and looked down at him.

He hadn’t been taking care of himself in the last few weeks, his hair looked dirty, and he hadn’t shaved. There was a thick shadow of scruff along his jaw. His eyes looked puffy, with bags carved deep in the skin beneath them. She reached out hesitantly, then placed her hand on his arm as he lay there, broken and hopeless. She watched him for another moment, before getting up, and stepping out into the hallway to call Luke, like she had promised him she would.

After hanging up with Luke, Peyton began to walk around the house, every so often stepping back into the guest room to check on Tom. He seemed to be breathing easier, and he hadn’t thrown up, she was relieved. She walked into the living room, looking at the books, some of which she recognized as her sisters. She smiled when she saw Shiloh’s old curio cabinet full of salt and pepper shakers. The set she had bought her sister so many years ago; two kissing ceramic German Sheppard dogs, were sitting on the top shelf, next to a set of tiny Big Bens. Peyton smiled, then her smile began to quiver and she pressed the back of her hand against her lips.

She turned her back to the curio cabinet full of her dead sister’s treasures. She walked across the room, head down, with a hand massaging her forehead. Down at the end of the hallway, Tom was still asleep, so she peeked into the office nearby. The room had obviously been set up for Shiloh, she recognized the haphazard organization of the desk immediately. She walked over quietly, in the back of her mind remembering all those times when they had been little, when Shiloh had yelled at her for trying to read her stories when they weren’t ready.

She sat down in the chair, staring at the blank computer screen for a minute, then quickly got up. She wasn’t ready to go riffling through her sister’s personal writing, not now. There might come a time when she or Tom would want to see what she had been working on before she died, but right now, it just didn’t feel right.

**~*~**

Tom opened his eyes a few hours later. He didn’t move at first, his body felt like it was made of heavy stone. He looked around, finally realizing that he was on his side, staring down at the floor from the edge of the bed. The trash can was sitting on the floor right in front of his face,  _how did that get there?_  He wondered. The question hung in his mind, but it hardly fazed him; so many thoughts wandered through his brain that just didn’t seem important anymore.

He struggled to sit up, his head hammering. When he finally got his hefty legs over the edge of the bed, he put his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. The pressure of his palms against his swollen eyes was the kind of pain that he wanted right now; to feel something different, something physical.

It was only after he heard movement in the living room, that he realized he wasn’t alone in the house. He opened his eyes as he leaned his forehead into his hands. His stomach churned, but he didn’t feel nauseous anymore – or maybe he didn’t care if he got sick, he wasn’t sure. He heard footsteps, and after another moment, he lifted the three-ton brick that was his head, and looked towards the doorway.

His heart rolled summersaults within his ribs; Shiloh was standing there, watching him. That worried look on her face that caused that little wrinkle appear between her eyebrows, the wrinkle he would kiss when he tried to get her to relax. The tears came quickly, trickling from the corner of his eyes as he stared at the woman he knew wasn’t the real Shiloh.  _The real Shiloh is gone, forever, she’s not coming back,_  he told himself, and he let his tears fall freely.

Peyton came to him silently, sitting next to him on the bed and gently placing her hand on his back. He shrugged away from the contact, scooting as far down the bed as he could. She just watched him, letting her hand fall to the mattress where he had sat.

“You need a shave,” she said after a quiet moment. He didn’t respond, he ran his hands over his face ruthlessly, his skin screaming at him to not be so rough. “Do you want me to draw you a bath?” Peyton’s voice was so loud, invading his ears, echoing through his brain.

He shook his head, his brain felt loose inside, as if it was bumping around in there from even the slightest movement. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said in a hoarse, deep voice that didn’t sound like his own.

She waited a beat, then nodded to herself, “someone had to.”

He turned towards her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, his forehead still in his hands. His palms pressed hard against his pounding skull, “why?” he asked.

Her face changed, what had been passive and somber, now quickly morphed into flushed frustration, “everyone’s worried about you, Tom! Nobody has been able to get a hold of you for weeks.”

“Who cares,” his voice sounded foreign to him. It was someone else speaking from his lips, someone else deep within his throat, forcing the words.

Peyton let out a loud sigh, running a hand through her hair. She stood up, then stepped over and stood in front of him, holding out her hand. He sat back, looking up at her, confused. She looked down at him, like a mother looking down at her child and waiting for him to obey her commend, “you need a shower, Tom, you stink.”

He didn’t argue with her, he didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t make any snide remark at her insult, he didn’t care. He let her take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. He stood blankly, quietly quivering where he stood; the effects of not enough sleep and too much alcohol coursing through him. She turned on the shower and drew the curtain, adjusted the temperature of the water, and put the bath mat out on the tile floor. She stood up and looked at him where he stood, slouched over and unfocused. She went to him quietly, unbuttoning the grimy shirt as he stared down at the floor. She unbuckled his pants, helped him step out of them, then left him to finish disrobing and get into the shower.

As soon as she was out of the bathroom, Tom’s lip shook violently, and his face contorted in pain. He leaned his hip against the sink and tried to breathe deeply, but the spasms of tears were overtaking him again, and he was helpless to stop them. He heaved with each breath, one arm curled around his naked torso, while his other hand tried desperately to cover his mouth and mask his wheezing sobs.

When he was finally able to catch his breath, he peeled off his underwear and stepped into the shower, the hot streaming water eliciting a cry of shock from him. He leaned against the wet tile, thumping his head against the hard wall, the steaming water gushing over him.

A few minutes later, he came into the living room dressed in sweat pants and a plain t-shirt, to find Peyton sitting on the couch, hands folded in her lap. He was too tired to ask what she wanted, he just wanted to go back to bed and forget about everything. Instead, with a frustrated sigh, he sat in the poufy armchair across from the couch, and leaned back.

“Luke asked me to check on you,” she said after a few minutes of silence. He watched her, unresponsive, she tried to keep his gaze, but eventually she looked away. “He said you weren’t returning his calls, and I guess he had my number, from…” she trailed off before she had to say her sister’s name out loud.

Tom looked away, his head slumping to the back of the chair. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears, thumping like a hammer through his body, up into his skull. He glanced over at the small bar table where he kept his alcohol, wishing he hadn’t drank all the whiskey.

Peyton took a deep steadying breath, “I have this theory,” she started. He glanced at her, but his expression didn’t change. She looked back at him, brow screwed up in concentration, “some people…” she sighed shakily, holding in her own tears. She started again, “some people aren’t meant for this world, not for very long. They brighten the lives of those they touch, and they burn brightly….like a star…” her voice shook and she bit her lip. Tom looked away, thinking of how Shiloh had bitten hers so many times. Peyton sighed and continued, “but they’re light is too bright, and they burn out faster….they leave us behind… _quicker_ …I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” she shook her head and put her face in her hands.

He watched her cry for a few minutes, resisting the urge to move over and comfort her. He didn’t think he could handle comforting someone else right now. He barely had the motivation to move, to breathe, or to think; how could he try and convince someone else that everything would be alright?

The silence between them was deafening. Peyton’s tears subsided, and she leaned back on the couch in a hunch, pinching the top of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Tom stared up at the ceiling, his eyes trying desperately not to begin watering again. He didn’t think he could stand another crying bout right now. Suddenly, words fell from his lips, as if they’d been waiting for the right moment to come tumbling out. Despite how drained and numb he felt, they were taking their chance to spill out into the silence that surrounded the two of them, “if I’d only left her  _alone_. If I’d left her on the island.” His lips trembled as he forced himself to talk to the ceiling, not daring to look back at Peyton, “s-she’d still be alive.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” she replied quickly.

He glanced up at her, holding back the burning tears that so desperately wanted to escape from his raw eyes, “how can you say that to me? How can you even  _look_  at me, after what happened?”

“It’s not your fault, Tom,” she said hotly. He looked away from her, back up at the ceiling, shaking his head slowly. He felt her watching him, “nobody  _blames_ you, you know,” she added.

“They  _should_ ,” he said softly.

“It was a freak accident, Tom. It was out of your control.”

His face, despite how numb it felt, screwed up for a moment as he struggled to hold back. That image of Shiloh on the ground flashed across his eyes and he dug his palms into them, pressing hard. Peyton breathed heavily from the other side of the room, and it took all of Tom’s will power to shift in his chair so he was facing her. She was staring at him with those chocolate-brown eyes, red and puffy from her tears; but those eyes had haunted his dreams for the last few weeks. She took another deep breath, “she’s at peace now, Tom. She’s with Barley, and she’s at peace.”

“And Sutton,” he choked, his chin shaking.

She cinched her eyebrows tightly, then the realization washed over her and her eyes widened, “was that what you were going to name him?”

Tom felt himself nod. “Sh-” he stared, but he stopped when he realized he had been about to say her name.  _Could he say her name? Was he physically able to?_  It seemed that if he did, everything would come roaring back to him – the memory of that night, the images that had been flitting through his mind for so many weeks now. He had only just been able to staunch the onslaught of memories when he had started drinking. Saying her name out loud might bring it all back in an overpowering wave. He inhaled deeply, his lungs felt raw, “ _she_ wanted to.”

Peyton nodded quietly and looked away, glancing towards the window. Tom looked at that window and saw Shiloh standing there, when she had just moved in. She had found the view so captivating. He could see her, a glass of wine in her hand, or a book hugged to her chest, looking out at the scenery, smirking to herself as she felt him watching her. He shook his head and leaned forward, the pounding in his brain shifting as he moved. He cradled his throbbing skull in his hands, basking in the discomfort and pain.

“At least she doesn’t have to live in fear anymore,” Peyton said quietly.

Tom looked up, all pretense of nursing his hangover forgotten, “she wasn’t _living in fear_. Jonas is  _dead_ , she was  _happy_. We were happy, finally.” His sudden anger had wiped away any possible tears, but once he finished speaking, he sucked on his lip to keep it from quivering.

“And what about the break in?” Peyton glanced around, “you’re telling me that that didn’t scare her? That someone broke in here?” she motioned around the room, her own highly-sensitive temper flaring. “She told me about it Tom, she told me how worried she was to come back here after that had happened.”

He shook his head, he had hardly thought about the break in after arriving back at the house. It had been the furthest thing from his mind, he had been shocked he had made it home on his own. Holding his hands at his temples, he unknowingly changed the subject, “I can’t stop going over the last thing she said to me.” Peyton brought her hand to her mouth and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she watched him. He looked up at her, eyes wide, tears trailing liberally down his cheeks, “she cracked a joke, and told me that I  _saved_ her. I can’t get her voice out of my head.”

Peyton nodded, obviously trying to compose herself before she spoke, “maybe you  _shouldn’t_  get her voice out of your head. Maybe it should stay in there.”

Tom cried, he let the tears fall and he heaved. His body trembled, he gasped for air in between the wave of sobs. His hands tried to cover his face, but he was sobbing too violently to control anything. Peyton rushed over and crouched down in front of him, pulling his shaking hands away as he struggled to move away from her. He felt so weak, he didn’t even trust himself to stand. She took his face in her hands and brought him up to look at her, her own tears streaming silently from her eyes. All he could see was Shiloh, when he looked into Peyton’s eyes, and he couldn’t stand to see that right now. He pulled away from her, removing her hands from his face, and stood up, stepping around her.

His legs felt wobbly, but he lumbered across the room and back down the hallway. He heard her footsteps behind him, following him into the bedroom, as he picked his phone up off the mattress with a shaking hand. His trembling fingers moved of their own accord, calling up the file he wanted to show her. He spun around as she entered the room, shoving the phone in her face and playing the video.

They had shot the video a few weeks into the Louisiana trip, inside their rented apartment. He and Shiloh had been sitting on their bed, and he was holding the phone up so their faces were framed in the screen, their heads connected at the temples as they smiled for the camera. “Hey baby!” Shiloh beamed, Peyton let out a painful combination of a laugh and a sob at the sight of her sister. Shiloh continued, her voice loud and echoing from the tiny speakers, “your daddy and I can’t wait to meet you! We love you!” Tom heard his own laugh in the video, but he gritted his teeth as he watched Peyton with the phone. She stopped the video, but he remembered what had happened next. He and Shiloh had kissed for the camera, and he had stopped recording just before tossing the phone aside and making love to her. The memory bit into him sharply, he tensed his jaw trying not to replay it in his mind.

Peyton looked up at him as the video stopped, tears welling up in her eyes again, “ _Tom_ ,” she started, but he took the phone from her and threw it back on the bed, shaking his head.

“It’s not fair,” he felt like screaming, but it only came out as a whimper. He wanted to throw something, to punch the wall, to scream at the top of his lungs until the anger and frustration drained from him, but he didn’t have the energy to even raise his voice. More tears fell as he stammered, “we weren’t even together for a  _year_.”

She placed a timid hand on his arm, “it doesn’t matter how long you were together.” He looked down at the floor as she spoke, unable to bring himself to look at her again. She sighed and continued, struggling, “what matters is that you were both happy, while you were together.”

He stepped backwards, away from her, and fell back against the bed, slumping into a heap on the edge of the mattress. His elbows went back to his knees, the position so familiar to him now, and he buried his aching face in his palms. After a minute, he felt Peyton sit down next to him, she placed her hand on his back again, but this time he didn’t pull away.

She rubbed his back distractedly as he attempted to breathe deeply. Now, her touch felt comforting, where before it had hurt to feel her hand on him. His heaving subsided, and he eventually ran his hands through his hair and leaned back, shaking, “I didn’t get to say good-bye,” he wheezed.

When he turned towards Peyton, she was watching him, her lips taut as she tried not to cry. He reached over and put his hand on her knee, his own eyes felt like they had been drained of any tears he might have had left. She stopped rubbing his back and put her hand on top of his, trying to smile. “At least you were there with her,” she said in a quiet voice, taking an uneasy breath, “she had you by her side, till…” she caught herself, “till the end.”

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to see that image of her, covered in blood, staring up at him. He wanted her to walk through the door, to come into the room with her bright smile, her girlish giggle. He wanted to hear her typing in the other room, to hear her playing her music, to see her on the couch with a book. He wanted to open his eyes and see her lying next to him in the morning, to watch her sleeping, to hear her breathe as they fell asleep together. He wanted to watch her grow, he wanted to be by her side as she gave birth, he wanted to see her playing and cuddling with their child. All these things he wanted, that he could never have, welled up inside him, itching at a scream buried deep in his throat.

“I want her back,” he said quietly.

Peyton muffled a cry, “I know Tom.”

 _She didn’t know,_  he thought,  _she might have been her sister, but she didn’t understand._  He shook his head, standing up, pacing the floor for a moment before turning on his heel and glaring at Peyton. “I want her BACK!” he yelled, balling his hands into fists and smashing them into the sides of his head. He let out a pained groan and his legs collapsed beneath him, he fell to the floor like a pile of matchsticks. Peyton was at his side in an instant, and she forced him into a hug as they sat there on the floor. He held on to her, part of him wishing he could just pretend she was her sister, even though he knew that would never work. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and let the sobs vibrate from him, he felt her cry as she did her best to comfort him.

**~*~**

The winter months slowly fell away, and spring began to pop up around him as time rolled on. Tom spent the majority of his time alone. He kept to himself, unwilling to be surrounded by too many people. Ben and Luke both visited him, but he didn’t have the energy for long visits, and each would leave the house wondering if their friend would ever be like his old self again.

When March finally came around, Tom felt the urge to move. The slump he had slid into had kept him stationary for so many months. Even though he still felt empty inside, he wanted to do something. There was only one thing that he could think of, and he was both terrified and excited by the idea.

When he stepped off the ferry and his feet connected with the small island once again, it was like coming home. He stopped on the dock and leaned against the railing, looking out over the water. Remembering the trip they had taken with Shiloh, and how she had seemed both joyful and cheerless, and how the island air had fulfilled her.

He took a taxi up to his old cottage; he hadn’t called to let Richard or Phyllis know that he’d be visiting Burray. He asked the driver to wait in the driveway of the small cottage he had occupied for a few weeks, as he made his way down the path towards the beach. When his shoes hit the sand, he stopped, caught by surprise at how little the landscape had changed. Part of him had half expected the island to be completely washed away, now that his piece of it was gone.

He walked slowly through the sand, watching for a certain spot. He knew where it was, and as he neared it, he came to a stop and fell to one knee. He shifted his weight and sat down, carving wedges in the sand for his long legs as he looked out over the water.

He brought his knees up towards his chest and leaned his arms on them, his hands hanging loose in front of him. The waves crashed calmly back and forth, the sun was peeking out from behind white puffs that trailed slowly across the sky. The light blinded him every few minutes, but he didn’t care. Tom sat there, breathing in deeply the sea air, inhaling the salt and the smell of the sand and grass nearby. He turned from one side to the other, looking up and down the stretch of beach he had grown to know so well.

“Almost a year ago,” he said quietly, into the air, his words being carried away by the breeze as Barley’s ashes had been so many months before, “I sat down in the sand with you, right here.” He felt the beginnings of tears growing in his eyes, but he was more in control of them now. The pain was still there, it ached at the empty void in his chest, it nipped at him in the most random moments, but he was used to it now. He  _expected_  it.

“ _Shiloh_ ,” he whispered into the breeze. He had been terrified to say that name, for so many months. Now that is fell from his lips, he felt a surge of relief float through him, saying her name out loud made it feel like she was closer. His lips shook, a lone tear fell down the side of his face as he stared out at the glistening waves, the sun dancing across the water and reflecting colors back onto him, “Shiloh, I miss you.”

The taxi took him to the other side of the island, where the cemetery was. So much of the actual funeral was a blur to him, he wasn’t sure if he would ever remember the details of the service, or of her death. He tried not to focus on it as he paid the driver, and watched the car pull away. He turned, hands in his pockets, the cool spring breeze wafting through his hair.

As he neared the spot where she was waiting for him, his heart seemed to come back into him. It felt like it had been missing from his body for so long, as if it had been scooped out of his chest by an oversized ice cream scoop. It had left a bloody, aching, empty mess behind. Finding her name on the tombstone, as surreal as it was, and he sat down on the grass in front of her headstone. He glanced around, but there was no one else in the cemetery today. He wouldn’t have cared if there was. He had been thinking about this for months, he wasn’t about to let another mourner stop him.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long,” he said quietly, glancing up at the large block of granite. His fingers dragged through the newly-grown grass, picking at it idly. He took a shaking breath, then sighed heavily. “I feel you near me,” he said numbly, tears forming again. His lip shook, but he continued the best he could, “I feel you in the house in London, and here on the island. I felt you on our beach,” he stopped, letting his face screw up in agony for a moment. When he was able, he gasped for another breath, “you are the love of my life, Shi.” His breath was jagged, “you will  _always_  be the love of my life.”

He glanced up at the sky, the breeze blowing across his skin had warmed slightly, caressing his face. He closed his eyes; his face lifted to the heavens, and felt the warmth of a light hand on his cheek, feathery fingers trailing down the tracks of tears left there. A smile crept across his lips, small but strong, and with his eyes still closed, “I’ll carry you with me,  _forever_.”

He opened his eyes slowly to the sun, the clouds floating leisurely by, and he could hear the faint sound of barking, a giggle from long ago, echoing through his past and into the present. His smile widened as more tears fell, “until we meet again, my darling…my  _love_.”


End file.
